


The Darkest Hours

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 146,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Harry is struggling to come to terms with the death of Sirius and the contents of the prophecy. Ron, Hermione and Ginny must help him deal with his anger if he is going to close his mind to Voldemort and achieve the impossible mission set by Dumbledore...to destroy the horcruxes.When tragedy strikes however, Harry finds help from the most unlikely ...





	1. Alone Again

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**1**

The only sound to be heard from the smallest bedroom at 4, Privet Drive, was the incessant pattering of raindrops on the window. At first glance it seemed that the room was completely empty, but then a small movement proved otherwise. A teenage boy sat hunched over in the very corner of the room, his head resting on his knees and his hands twisted in his shock of untidy black hair. He was wearing faded jeans and an old t-shirt that looked to be at least 3 sizes too big. He lifted his head slowly and stared unseeingly across the room, tiredness and grief etched in every part of his face. Although his startlingly green eyes were haunted looking, they were dry, although there were deep shadows underneath. Harry Potter sighed, and buried his head back in his arms. He remained like that for several minutes, until a gentle knocking at the window startled him. His head jerked up in panic and his hand fumbled for his wand, before he realised that it was just his owl, Hedwig, returning from hunting. Harry got up stiffly and walked over to the window, unlocking it and letting Hedwig in. He seemed to have grown a lot in a very short space of time and although he was now relatively tall he had not filled out, and so looked even more gaunt and unhealthy. 

“Hey Hedwig” he muttered, stroking the top of her head. “How was your hunt?”

The owl hooted gently at Harry, fluttering into her cage and drinking from her water bottle. Harry watched her for a while, and then walked over to his bed, dropping heavily onto it. He stared at his ceiling for a few minutes and then stood up again, restlessly pacing the room. He went to his desk and picked up a few of the letters that were lying on the top, scanning them quickly although he knew what they all said. They all had pretty much the same messages; 

“ _You’re okay, aren’t you Harry?”, “I hope you’re eating well, Harry”, “Don’t do anything stupid will you, Harry_?”. And the worst one of all…” _It wasn’t your fault, Harry_ ”.

Harry snorted and dropped the letters back on the desk. _It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault_. Huh. Who did they think they were fooling? Of course it was his fault. If he hadn’t been so stupid and so certain that he was right…if he’d just listened to Hermione…if he’d just thought about using the two-way mirrors…if he hadn’t believed Kreacher…if he didn’t always have to play the hero…then maybe Sirius wouldn’t be…

Harry shook his head violently, forcing the thoughts from his head. He tried not to think about it, for every time he did that pain in his chest started again, and he felt emptier and more alone than ever. He had cried only once, and that was when he was still at Hogwarts. Harry had always found it hard to cry, ever since he was little and he realised that however much he cried, it didn’t make a difference; no-one came to him. He liked to be in control of his emotions, and if he cried, he wasn’t.

That was why Harry tried to avoid sleeping as much as he could, because with the sleep came the dreams…and with the dreams came the awful and heart-wrenching visions, the flashbacks, the memories that he was trying so hard to forget.

__

The black, flickering veil…

__

Bellatrix Lestrange’s triumphant face… 

__

Sirius’s look of surprise as he fell though the archway…

__

Harry closed his eyes and tried to push the thoughts from out of his head. His mind turned to another topic, almost as horrible as the first. The Prophecy. Words and phrases swirled around his mind like leaves in the wind, unable to be caught and pushed away. 

__

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches….he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…born to those who have thrice defied him…neither can live whilst the other survives…

__

Neither can live whilst the other survives…Harry shuddered and buried his head in the pillow. He wouldn’t think about it. Not now. Now he would sleep, and then maybe when he woke he would find that it had all been a dream…Hedwig would swoop through his window carrying a letter from Sirius demanding when Harry would next come to Grimmauld Place, saying that he’d missed him and they needed to catch up. Harry closed his eyes and slept, dreaming of large black dogs, flickering veils and men with strange, bark-like laughs.

 

“Potter! Potter! Harry!”

Harry opened his eyes and sat up quickly. His aunt was leaning over his bed, her face unreadable.

“What?” Harry muttered, although he knew exactly why his aunt was in his room.

“You were shouting…talking in your sleep again…something about something being serious…” his aunt said coldly. “You’re lucky Vernon’s gone to work, he’s had enough of your nightmares”.

“Yeah, well they’re not exactly great fun for me either,” Harry spat, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Time you got up” Petunia said severely, turning on her heel and leaving the room. 

Harry stood up and stretched, shaking his head to try and wake himself up. He had gotten only a few hours sleep again that night…his average was about 4 hours, and it showed in the emptiness of his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. Harry looked into his cracked mirror and sighed, knowing he had lost weight but unable to stomach the thought of eating proper meals. His appetite had gone completely, and it was all he could do to keep down a few mouthfuls every few hours. Trying to flatten his hair down, he walked downstairs to while away another day.

 

Petunia looked up from doing the washing as Harry walked into the kitchen, quickly looking back down again before he noticed. She knew something was wrong with the boy, it was obvious, even without all the nightmares. Even Vernon had noticed. He looked sick, and she wondered if he was ill. He was in his own world entirely - well, he was in his own world most of the time anyway, thank goodness, but he was different this holiday, something was definitely wrong. She thought about asking him, but then shook her head. She didn’t want to know. It was probably due to some problem at that freak school of his…maybe some weird girl didn’t like him…she didn’t need to be reminded of his unnaturalness any more than was necessary. 

 

Vernon Dursley waddled into the kitchen later that evening, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Good day, Petunia?”

“Yes Vernon, you?”

“Ah, great, great. How is Dudders? What’s he been up to all day?“

“He’s been out with his friends…I think they went to play football in the park”.

“Ah, that’s my lad. He’s a proper boy, is our Dudders. Not like _him_. How was the boy? Did he behave himself?”

“Yes…he’s been in his room all day. He only came down in the morning”.

“Really? I’ll bet he’s up to something…doing something he shouldn’t…well, you know what I mean, Petunia dear. I’ll go and check on him…he’d better not be doing any freak stuff…” 

And with that, he walked as briskly up the stairs as his large frame would allow him to.

“Boy!” He pushed open Harry’s door and marched in, seeming disappointed that Harry was doing nothing more than simply lying on his bed.

“What were you doing just a minute ago?” he barked.

“Nothing” came the bored sounding reply.

“What, you were just lying on your bed?”

“Yep”.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy,” Vernon warned, taking a few steps towards the bed. 

The boy didn’t move, but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. Vernon grew angrier. What was wrong with the boy? Why was he acting like he wasn’t afraid anymore? The boy’s obvious indifference to him annoyed him, and he knew he had to do something about it. He grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him up, wondering vaguely when the boy had reached the same height as him.

“Now, you listen here, boy…”

Harry jerked his arm away like he’d been burned. “My name is not Boy!” he spat, sitting back down on his bed and turning away. Vernon’s face turned purple.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Potter! While you are under my roof you will talk to me with respect! I am the master of this house! You will respect that!”

Harry laughed mirthlessly and said nothing. The vein in Vernon’s forehead stuck out as he swelled visibly.

“How dare you! You sit there on the bed that we’ve given you, in the clothes that we’ve provided for you, in the room that we’ve offered you - ”

“ _Offered_ me?” Harry said incredulously. “ _Offered_ me? Excuse me, Vernon, but I seem to remember that the only reason I’m in this room is because you wanted to stop those letters coming to me, and because even you aren’t thick enough to think that I’d be able to fit in the cupboard forever. You’ll forgive me if I don’t think that’s particularly charitable of you”.

Vernon stood stock still for a while, as if unable to comprehend what had just been said, and then his eyebrows lowered dangerously.

“You little -” he stretched out a hand to grab Harry, but Harry was too quick. He dodged under Vernon’s arm and pulled his wand out from his jeans pocket.

“Don’t - push - me”, he hissed, pointing the wand directly at Vernon‘s heart.

Vernon blustered for a moment, then evidently thought Harry was bluffing, because he stretched out his arm again. Harry knocked it back and forced his wand to his uncle’s neck.

“I’m warning you…I wouldn’t do that again if I were you”, he said in a low voice.

Vernon stood breathing heavily for a while, and then took a few steps back.

“You’re mad! Mad!” He turned quickly and hurried down the stairs. “Petunia, the boy’s gone made!”

 

Harry stood still in his room, trembling with rage. How could they do this to him? How could they leave him here to rot? They knew what the Dursleys were like, they knew how they acted to Harry. They all knew what Harry was going through, and yet they’d dumped him back with the worst muggles imaginable…even the letters they sent were useless…saying they hoped to see him soon, they hoped he’d be joining them shortly…but never bothering to say when. Harry felt a wave of anger and injustice sweep over him, and he kicked his trunk, spilling the contents across the floor. He swore and sank down onto his bed once again.

 

He must have drifted off, because he woke suddenly a few hours later, his room in darkness. He held his breath, wondering what it was that had woken him. He heard a faint creaking sound from the stairs and sat up, his heart pounding. He fumbled for his wand and found it, gripping it tightly. He heard his bedroom door open quietly and raised his wand, and then heard a whisper, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Where is he? Is he here?“, a man’s voice muttered. 

A few dark figures came into sight, hoods over their faces, and Harry’s heart stopped. Death Eaters. In his bedroom. Feeling a reckless anger take over him, Harry lunged for the nearest person, winding his arm around their neck and pressing his wand against their chest. 

“Harry!” sounded else said urgently. “Harry, stop!”

“Who are you?”, Harry snarled, tightening his grip around the person‘s neck. 

Someone else muttered “Lumos!”, and his room came into vision. He found himself staring at a worried looking Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. He frowned in confusion.

“What…what are you doing here?”

“We’ve come to take you to Grimmauld Place, Harry. Why else would we be here?” Lupin said, smiling.

Harry continued to frown, feeling very wrong-footed.

“Er…Harry,” Lupin continued, nodding at the person Harry was grabbing. “You might want to let her go now”.

Harry looked down and saw a very red-faced Tonks, her eyes bulging slightly. He let her go hurriedly, blushing. 

“Er…sorry about that. I didn’t know who you all were” he said, looking at the floor.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Potter”, Moody growled. “I’d have been more worried if you had just let us walk right in. Constant vigilance! That’s the way!”

“Blimey, Harry” gasped Tonks, massaging her throat. “That’s quite a grip you’ve got there!”

“Er…sorry,” Harry said again, feeling stupid. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed though; why had no-one bothered to tell him they were coming? As if he was reading his mind, Lupin touched Harry on the shoulder.

“It was meant to be a surprise. It was Molly’s idea. She thought it would be a nice birthday surprise.”

“A birthday…what?” Harry said, confused.

“Birthday surprise, Harry!” chipped in Tonks, apparently recovered. “It’s your birthday today! Well, it’s your birthday in forty-three minutes, to be exact but you must have known that…it‘s not every day a wizard turns sixteen, hey? Sixteen’s a good age to turn, Harry…nudge nudge, wink wink!”

“Leave him alone, Tonks, you’re embarrassing him” said Kingsley, a faint smile playing on his lips. He looked at Harry and grinned properly. “Alright?”

Harry nodded. He hadn’t even thought about his birthday. Lupin looked around the room in amusement, before sweeping his wand across the floor and sending everything flying into Harry’s trunk.

“All set, Potter?” Moody growled. “You know the drill…same as last year. We’ve got more Order members outside, they’ll be flanking you as we fly.”

Harry nodded again, and opened Hedwig’s cage.

“Go to Grimmauld Place, Hedwig. I‘ll see you there in a bit”. Hedwig hooted and took off into the night. Lupin levitated Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage, and they all left the room, trying not to make too much noise on the stairs. 

“Want to say goodbye to your aunt and uncle, Harry? You wont be seeing them for a year” Lupin asked, his eyes twinkling. 

Harry looked across the hall to his aunt and uncle’s bedroom, and listened to Vernon’s snores for a moment. Then he looked back at Lupin, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nah, think I’ll give that one a miss”.

Lupin smiled at him, and they left the house and walked through the garden, mounting their brooms. As Harry kicked off he couldn’t help the thrill that went though him, the thrill that always came from flying. And yet, that thrill wasn’t nearly enough to cover the feeling of dread that had risen immediately when he’d realised they were going to Grimmauld Place. The house of his Godfather. The house that Sirius should be living in…the house that he _would_ have be living in, if it hadn’t been for Harry.

 


	2. Birthday Blues

2

 

As soon as they arrived at Grimmauld Place a few hours later, Harry was ushered to bed. He tried not to take notice of his surroundings, tried not to remember that the last time he had been here Sirius had been charging around singing Christmas carols and beaming at everyone. _Don’t think about it_. He banged his head into the pillow a few times and shut his eyes tightly, ignoring the dull ache in his chest that had returned as soon as he had stopped flying.

“Oi! Wake up, you lazy sod!” 

A familiar voice broke though Harry’s mind, and he felt his bed being rocked violently.

“Wake up! D’you want me smack you or something?”

Harry forced his eyes open and saw Ron Weasley standing at the end of his bed, grinning at him and looking - if it were possible - even taller and frecklier than when Harry had seen him almost a month ago.

“Happy Birthday, mate. I didn’t know you were here yet; I thought you were coming tomorrow. Mum’s gone crazy downstairs making you a huge birthday breakfast, she says she knows you’re going to need fattening up after being stuck at the Dursleys for a month!”

Harry couldn’t help smiling at his friend. Even though it had only been a month, and Ron had written to him regularly, Harry had missed his best friend, and was glad to see him again. He stood up and stretched, feeling more hungry than he had for a while.

“Blimey, Harry, look at you!” said Ron in astonishment.

“What?” Harry asked, looking down at himself, confused.

“You _do_ need fattening up…you’ve lots loads of weight. To be honest, mate”, he looked Harry up and down, “you don’t look so good”.

“Yeah, thanks Ron” Harry said bitterly. “You really now how to make the birthday boy feel good”.

Ron looked slightly abashed, but carried on anyway. “You know I don’t mean it in a bad way…just…have you not been eating, or something?” 

“Course I’ve been eating,” said Harry shortly. “I just haven’t been as hungry as I usually am”.

“Yeah, well, I can see that for myself. Mum’s going to have kittens - you wait, she wont let you leave the table until you’ve had fourths, you mark my words!”

Harry laughed in spite of himself; he liked Mrs Weasley very much, and although it embarrassed him, he did enjoy having her fuss around him - it wasn’t often he had someone to do that. He washed his face quickly, telling Ron about the night before, and peeled off his top, pulling on a clean shirt. He saw Ron’s eyes dart across his bare chest, knowing he was still thinking about how much weight Harry had lost. An irrational flicker of anger went through him, and he turned to face Ron.

“Want to have a good look? Anything else wrong with me, apart from apparently losing half my body weight?”, he snapped. “Is my hair okay? Am I all spotty?”

Ron’s grin faltered, as he was unsure whether Harry was being completely serious,

“Er…yeah…you’re looking a bit tired, too”, he said, chuckling tentatively. It was a mistake. Harry’s eyes flashed angrily, and he threw down the towel he was holding.

“Great. That’s just great.”

“Aw Harry, don’t be so touchy. Mum will get you back to your usual self in no time, you know that”.

“Yeah”, Harry muttered, feeling slightly ashamed of having lashed out at Ron. He knew Ron didn’t mean anything; he was known for being pretty tactless in the things he said.

“Anyway,” Ron said, cuffing Harry round the head. “You don’t look _that_ bad”.

“Cheers Ron”, Harry grinned.

 

As soon as Harry entered the kitchen Mrs Weasley flung herself on him.

“Oh Harry! Happy Birthday! It’s so good to see you! I’ve been so anxious! Why didn’t you write more? You sent such short answers, we were all so worried. Have you been eating enough? Let me have a look at you”.

She drew back and held Harry at an arms length, looking up at him critically. Her eyes widened and she let out a little gasp.

“Oh Harry, have you been ill? You’re ever so thin…you haven’t been eating properly, have you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sent you some food over right away. Oh those Dursleys…I’ll be having words with Albus, oh yes I will. It’s just not on, leaving you with them when they don’t even give you enough food…growing boy…oh Harry!” She sounded close to tears.

Harry tried to smile. “No Mrs Weasley, I’m fine, honestly. The Dursleys were giving me plenty of food, I just…haven’t been that hungry lately”.

Mrs Weasley looked at him for a few moments, pain showing on her face, and then pulled him for another hug. 

“Of course you haven’t been hungry…I’m sorry Harry. Oh, my dear. Well, you wont be leaving this table until you’ve cleared your plate and had seconds. Its time you regained your appetite, Mr Potter!”

Harry caught Ron’s eye and smothered a smile. He sank down gratefully into the chair opposite him, and began to eat away at the full English breakfast that Mrs Weasley placed in front of him. When he had finished it he managed to sneak Ron his seconds, without her noticing, still unable to eat that much. The door opened again and Mr Weasley came in, followed by Ginny Weasley.

“Hallo Harry!” smiled Mr Weasley, walking round the table and shaking Harry’s hand.

“How are you?”

“Fine thanks, Mr Weasley”, Harry smiled. 

He caught the look that passed between Mr and Mrs Weasley and felt a flicker of annoyance; he knew they were alluding to his thin physique.

“Hiya Harry” said Ginny warmly, giving him a quick hug. “You alright?”

“Yeah, fine” he grinned, grateful that she too didn’t press him on his altered appearance. 

“Happy Birthday, by the way. We’ve all got you presents but we’re meant to be giving them to you in the afternoon, when everyone’s here”.

“Everyone?” Harry frowned.

“Yeah…Fred and George are at the shop, Remus is out on Order business, as are the rest of the Aurors, Charlie’s still in Romania so wont be able to make it, but I think Bill will be coming later…with Fleur”. She pulled a face.

Harry laughed. “They’re still together then?”

“Yeah” she muttered. “Don’t know what he sees in her.”

“Er…Ginny, are you thick or something?” said Ron incredulously. “You don’t know what he sees in her? Are you blind?”

“Looks aren’t everything, you know Ronald” Ginny snapped, glaring at Ron.

“All right you two, stop bickering” said Mr Weasley lightly. “It’s Harry’s birthday…he shouldn’t have to hear this! Isn’t that right, Harry?” 

“Quite right, Mr Weasley” Harry agreed, smirking at Ron and Ginny.

 

Harry, Ron and Ginny spent the rest of the day just lounging around and chatting, and Harry felt the knot in his stomach lessen slightly, simply by being in the company of two of his good friends. Hermione was on holiday with her parents, but was apparently coming to stay at Grimmauld Place for the last 2 weeks of the holidays, and Harry was looking forward to seeing her.

“There’s an Order meeting tonight, you know. A big one” Ginny said suddenly.

“Really? How d’you know?” Harry asked her.

“I heard mum talking to dad about it - they think I wasn’t listening” she said scornfully. “So expect to see Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape all here tonight”.

Harry frowned at the mention of Snape, especially since he was very aware of the fact that he would be in Sirius’s old house. Ginny saw his look.

“I know he’s an old git, Harry, but he is on our side and -”

“I don’t care if Dumbledore trusts him” Harry said fiercely, interrupting her. “He might, but I don’t. I’ve yet to see a single sign that he’s fully on our side…for all we know he could be reporting to Voldemort every night!”

Ron flinched at the name, and Harry sneered. “Get a grip, Ron”.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Harry’s sudden anger but said nothing. There was a short silence and then she spoke again. 

“Fred and George have joined the Order now too, you know. But they’re being awful about it, they wont tell us _anything_ , it’s infuriating”. 

“They were allowed to join?” Harry asked quickly. “Even though they didn’t finish their seventh year? I thought that was one of the rules?”

“It is,” Ron said heavily, “But they thought that seeing as Fred and George are of age and are running a pretty successful business, they should be allowed to join”.

“Well, if they can bend the rules for them, they can do it for me too! They’ve got to let me join, they have to -”

“Nah mate, trust me, they wont. I’ve asked them a million times and its always the same thing; when you’re of age and have finished school. Honestly, as if that matters”.

“Well, I’m going to ask anyway” Harry said firmly.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, Harry. If they wont let me join they wont let you; I’m just as involved as you, even if I’m not the Boy Who Lived!” Ron snorted.

Harry said nothing. He still hadn’t told Ron or Hermione about the prophecy; he hadn’t told anyone. He was going to, sometime, it was just that telling them would make it seem that much more…real. And Harry didn’t think he was ready for that yet.

“Harry?” asked Ginny quietly, noticing the troubled look that passed across his face. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. Is that the door I just heard? Sound like Fred and George are back. Let’s go downstairs - I want to open my presents!” 

Harry said all this very quickly, jumping up at the end and leaving the room. Ginny frowned. She was certain Harry was hiding something, but had no idea what it was. She turned to Ron, to ask his opinion, but he was already following Harry, a hopeful look on his face.

“Gin, d’you reckon mum made cake?” 

 

“Harry, how are you?” asked Remus quietly. “I know we talked a bit yesterday, but it wasn’t very private, and I’ve just been wondering how you’re holding up”.

Harry and Remus were in the kitchen with the rest of the Weasleys, bar Percy and Charlie. They had eaten a delicious dinner - which was followed by a cake, much to Ron’s delight - and Harry had just finished opening his presents when Remus had pulled him aside, and anxious crease in his forehead.

“I’m fine, Remus. Really” Harry said, trying to sound sincere. Remus frowned slightly.

“Harry, I know this has been hard for you. Its been hard for me, too. But you do know that none of this is your fault, don’t you? You did nothing wrong.”

Harry said nothing, but a muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Sirius wouldn’t have wanted this, Harry. He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself, especially not on your birthday. He died doing what he loved; fighting for a cause he believed in, and protecting someone he loved. He died in action - that’s how he’d have wanted to go”. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, but Harry shrugged it off angrily.

“He didn’t want to go at all, Remus. You know that as well as I do. He’d just spent 12 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit; he should have had the rest of his life to make up for that. Instead he got another 2 years, all of it spent in hiding” Harry spat.

Remus sighed. “That’s true, Harry. But you mustn’t blame yourself. You see that, don’t you?”

Harry nodded slowly, feeling drained all of a sudden. Remus leant forward and gave him a brief hug.

“Well Harry, I’m sure you’ll hate to hear this, but I think I’ll be poking my nose into your affairs from now on. James made Sirius your Godfather, and although I’ll never try and take his place, I reckon if I don’t try and give you a helping hand and bit of support now and then, neither of them will ever forgive me. That okay with you, Harry?”

Harry nodded. He’d always liked Lupin, and with Sirius gone he knew there would be times when he’d need some kind of father figure. The fact that his own father and Remus had been great friends also meant a lot to Harry.

As Remus turned away to pour himself and Harry another drink, the fireplace turned an emerald green, and Harry turned to look at who had arrived. Brushing non-existent soot from his midnight blue robes, Professor Dumbledore stepped out from the fire, smiling jovially at everyone.

“Ah, Molly, Arthur, Remus, Miss Weasley, Mr Weasley” he smiled, nodding at Ron and Ginny. He turned to Harry. “And Harry; many happy returns for the day”. 

A flicker passed over his eyes as he took in Harry’s appearance, but a second later it was gone and the smile was back in place. 

“I trust you have had a good day so far?”

“Yes sir” Harry replied politely, still embarrassed when he thought back to the last time he had seen Dumbledore, that time in his office just after Sirius…

The fire glowed green again and Professor McGonagall stepped out, followed by Snape. Harry felt his anger rise up again just looking at him. Snape was glad Sirius was dead, and made no attempt to hide it, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself saying something he might regret. McGonagall smiled briskly at Harry.

“Happy Birthday, Potter”.

Harry returned the smile. “Thanks, Professor”.

Snape said nothing, a faint smile playing around his mouth, as he surveyed the room.

“Severus” Remus said politely, nodding his head, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that his tone was much colder than it had used to be, and realised that Remus found 

Snape’s delight in Sirius’s death hard to stomach too.

“Lupin”, Snape nodded curtly.

“Well, as much as I dislike to cut off these pleasantries, we really must crack on with the meeting” said Dumbledore with a smile. “However, there is one topic I think I should raise before the meeting goes in. Harry, the contents of Sirius’s will were made known today”.

Harry felt his stomach twist, and was suddenly grateful for Remus’s hand on his shoulder. His will…that made everything seem so…so final.

“With the exception of a respectable sum of gold for Remus here, Sirius left you everything, Harry.”

“I don’t want it”, Harry said quickly. If he took Sirius’s money he would have somehow gained from his death, and he didn’t want that. The money would always seem tainted, stained with Sirius’s blood.

“He left it to you in his will, Harry. It was his dying wish for you to have it”.

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “I really don’t want it”.

“Well, in that case, it means that the gold would be split down the middle between Sirius’s last living relations”, Dumbledore said slowly, looking at Harry.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine”.

“Harry, those relations are Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange”.

There was a loud silence, punctuated by an even louder “NO” from Harry.

“Ah, I thought you might say that, Harry. In this case, then, it looks like you have no choice but to take the money.”

Harry turned to Lupin. “Remus, couldn’t you -”

“No, Harry, I most certainly could not” said Remus firmly. “Sirius has already left me some gold. He left _you_ that money because he wanted _you_ to have it.”

Harry opened his mouth and then shut it again, knowing it sounded childish to argue, but still reluctant to take the gold.

“The other thing he left you, Harry”, Dumbledore continued, “Is this house.”

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say to this.

“I would think it best if we continued to use it for headquarters, but of course that decision lies with you now. What do you think?”

“No…Er…I mean, yeah, keep it as headquarters. It’s what he would have wanted”.

“My thoughts exactly, Harry” Dumbledore smiled. “And now, without further ado, let us proceed to the meeting room.”

The rest of the Order filed out of the kitchen and through the corridor, until only Dumbledore remained.

“Harry, would it be possible to have a private talk with you after the meeting? There are a few things I would like to discuss with you, and I daresay you have a few questions for me,” he said, smiling softly.

“Er…yeah, okay”, said Harry awkwardly.

“Excellent, excellent. Well, I shall come and find you once the meeting had finished, then”. 

He started to walk away, and then turned around again.

“Oh, and in order not to waste any of your time, I should warn the three of you that Molly has placed an Impertuable charm on the doors, so there is no point in trying to eavesdrop!” He beamed at the three, and walked off.

“I cant believe they charm the doors still! We’re not kids anymore. Don’t they trust us?” Ron complained.

“Evidently not” Harry muttered, annoyed.

“What do you think Dumbledore wants to talk to you about, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Er…I’m not…you know…it’s probably just about the will, or something. Something boring, I expect” Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Ron nodded, convinced, but Ginny stared at Harry, noticing how he wouldn’t meet her eyes, and even though he’d turned away the back of his neck had turned pink.

Yes. He was _definitely_ hiding something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. An Extraordinary Boy

3

Harry sat on his bed, drumming his feet on the ground and waiting for the meeting to finish so he could talk to Dumbledore. He had so much to ask him, especially about him becoming a member of the Order. He also wanted to talk about the prophecy; it had been bothering him immensely the last month, and his worries about it had been escalating steadily since there was no-one he could talk to about it. He wanted to tell Hermione and Ron about it, but didn’t know if Dumbledore would agree. He also didn’t have a clue how he was going to tell them. He had considered telling Remus, but the man already looked old beyond his years, he already had enough troubles; Harry didn’t want to add another worry for him.

There was a gentle tap on the door, and Harry sat up straighter.

“Come in”.

The door swung open, but instead of Dumbledore appearing, it was Ginny. Harry blinked in surprise.

“Sorry”, she whispered “I know you’re waiting for Dumbledore but the meeting hasn’t quite finished yet and I just wanted a word”.

“Oh. Okay, sure” Harry said awkwardly.

Ginny sat down gently next to him and exhaled loudly.

“Harry…I know you’ve never been one for sharing all your problems…but I just wondered if there’s anything you’d like to tell me?” 

Harry paused for a moment. He couldn’t tell Ginny. Certainly not before Ron and Hermione, anyway.

“No, Ginny. Nothing”.

She sighed again, and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Harry, I know you’re hiding something, I -”

“I’m not hiding anything” Harry interrupted, feeling a surge of annoyance. Why was everyone constantly watching him? Why couldn’t they all just leave him alone?

“Harry, I know you are, I can see it in your eyes, its -”

“Ginny, you’re seeing things”, Harry said bluntly. “I’m fine”.

Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Oh, you’re fine are you, Harry?” she said scathingly.

“Yes, Ginny, I’m fine” Harry snarled angrily.

Ginny stood up suddenly. “Fine, are you?” she repeated. “Well, you could have fooled me!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Ginevra?” Harry said quietly.

“Look at you! You’re not fine, anyone can see that! Everyone’s talking about it, you look awful, you’re not eating, you’re just moping around-”

“Oh, well I’m sorry if that offends you”, Harry said sarcastically. “Perhaps you should run along and join everyone else in talking about me then, if that’s what you think”.

“It is what I think!” Ginny snapped, two red spots appearing on her cheeks. “Why are you always so proud? Why cant you just admit that you’re not okay for once? No-one expects you to be fine, Harry, you’re just making yourself look stupid by pretending you are!”

Harry stared at her. “Go away, Ginny” he muttered, knowing he was going to lose his temper soon. She bit her lip.

“Look, Harry”, she said in a softer tone, “I understand what you’re going through -” 

“Oh you do, do you?” Harry interrupted loudly, feeling his temper slide out of control. “I’ve got news for you, Ginny. YOU HAVEN’T GOT A CLUE! You have absolutely no idea how I feel, so I’d appreciate if you’d stop trying to patronise me, and just leave me alone!”

“Harry, I wasn’t trying to patronise you-” Ginny began angrily, but Harry cut her off again.

“Ginny, just PISS OFF, okay?”

They glared at each other for a moment.

“Fine!” Ginny spat, turning on her heel and marching out of the room. He heard her gasp loudly for a second, and then heard her footsteps running along the hall. Already he was feeling bad for upsetting her, but why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone for once? He kicked the bottom of the bed and swore angrily. 

A quiet cough came from behind him, and Harry swung round. Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, and Harry realised that this was the reason he’d heard Ginny gasp. Dumbledore was examining his fingernails with feigned interested. He looked at Harry and smiled.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Harry” he said pleasantly.

“Er…right” Harry managed, wondering if Dumbledore meant the swearing or the argument. Knowing Dumbledore, it was likely to be both. Harry stared at the ground, waiting for Dumbledore to say something, but he remained silent. Harry glanced back up to see Dumbledore staring at him with a curious expression on his face.

“What?” said Harry aggressively; more aggressively than he’d intended. Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows, and Harry knew he wasn’t impressed.

“Erm…sorry…I just meant…I mean…”

“You meant that you don’t like people looking at you like you are some kind of specimen. You meant that you are sick and tired of people smothering you with worry, and yet you feel painfully alone. You meant that you feel you have no way out, no rescuer, nothing between you and Voldemort. You meant that you don’t think you will ever be able to fill the aching hole that is now in your heart, and you don’t know how much more you can take”.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, his face grave and drawn. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat as he realised that everything his Headmaster said was true, and it hurt doubly because it was the first time he’d admitted it to himself. He felt his eyes begin to sting and turned away, facing the wall.

“I also understand how guilty you are feeling; not only because of Sirius but because of the way you are reacting your loved ones. I know you are ashamed of what you just said to Miss Weasley, Harry, and I know it is hurting you that although you don’t want to be saying some of the things you are, you cannot seem to help them coming out of your mouth. But once they have, you feel awful, don’t you?”

Harry nodded mutely, still facing the wall.

“Harry. _Harry_ ,” Dumbledore insisted gently. “Look at me. _Look at me_.”

Harry took a few deep breaths, but shook his head gently. “I can’t”, he whispered.

“Ah, Harry…I must say I do agree with Miss Weasley on some points; you are far more proud than you need to be. There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry”.

“I know,” Harry whispered. “Its just…I can’t…I can’t do it”.

“You can’t do what, Harry?”

“I cant fulfil the prophecy, sir. I cant…you _know_ I cant!”

“I know no such thing.”

“But…how can I? I mean…look at me! I’m not a powerful wizard! How can I do it?” Harry finally turned around, his expression desperate.

“The prophecy says that I’m the only one who can do it…but I cant, I know I cant! And then it’ll be all my fault, everyone who dies…too many are dead because of me anyway, but this…this is the whole world, sir…I cant do it!”

Dumbledore bowed his head for a moment, allowing Harry to calm down. He sighed, raising his head to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Harry…I know your trust in me has been shaken recently. No, don’t say anything,” he said quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth. “Just listen to me. I know I have not always made the right decisions for you. I know that. But throughout my life I have always been able to see people for whom they really are, and what they‘re capable of. And I _see you_ , Harry. You have always been an extraordinary boy, not just because of what happened when you were a baby. When you walked into the castle on your first day at Hogwarts, I knew you special. Why did I know that? Because, despite the abysmal way you were forced to grow up, despite the fact that you were neglected appallingly, despite the fact that you never knew love…despite all these things, Harry, when you came to Hogwarts you were pure hearted, loving and kind. It was your choices that really showed me that. Your choice of who became your friends, your choice of which house you wanted to be sorted into…it was your choices that defined you.”

Harry felt utterly nonplussed; he had never seen the Headmaster so agitated and yet felt that he still didn’t understand.

“Yes, sir…but how does that -”

“Wait, Harry. That was what you were like as a child, but you are a child no longer. And even now, despite everything you have gone though, all the suffering, all the pain; you are still the same pure hearted boy you were 6 years ago. And that is what makes you extraordinary, Harry. It is the love you have that has made you into the man you are now. Yes, you are angry, yes, you are bitter - but for the right reasons! It is the love you have that has made you want revenge on Voldemort. You want to avenge him for what he’s done to you; for your mother, for your father, for Cedric, for Sirius. You want to avenge him for ruining countless families, countless friendships…all those other people that have suffered; the Longbottom family, the Crouch family…even families like the Weasleys who are now divided. And _this_ is what Voldemort doesn’t have. Voldemort has never understood or experienced love, and therefore he underestimates it terribly. Do not make the same mistake. You need to trust in yourself, as I trust in you. You are an extraordinary man, Harry, and an incredible wizard. You saw how Voldemort could not bare to be in your body at the ministry, and that was because he could not bare the love you were feeling towards Sirius. Love is your weapon!”. 

“Sir, I think I understand what you’re saying, but.…but you say he can only be killed with love?”

“Yes, Harry”, Dumbledore nodded.

“But then…how can I do that? How can I kill someone with love? Aren’t the two things completely contradictory?”

“Yes, they are” Dumbledore replied, looking pleased that Harry seemed to be catching on so quickly.

“But….but…how am I meant to kill him with love? What, do I walk up to him and give him a hug, or something?”, Harry asked, only half joking.

Dumbledore smiled. “That is a different bridge to cross, Harry. You do not need to concern yourself with that now”.

“But….”

“You are not thinking of taking on Voldemort at this present moment, are you?”

“No, but…”

“All in due course, Harry, all in due course. I promise, we will talk about this soon. Now, one more thing. There is still another month before that happy moment when the school re-opens. I’ve always found that a month can be put to very good use, and go very quickly, when one is doing something constructive” Dumbledore smiled.

“Erm…right…”, said Harry.

“I fear Molly will not be able to keep you under her wing as much as she would want to, alas. I have arranged a programme for you, Harry. The great majority of your day will be spent training”.

“Right. Er…training for what, Professor?”

Dumbledore smiled. “You will be taught by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks on consecutive days. I’m sure you will learn a lot from them; they both are very highly trained Aurors.”

“D’you mean…d’you mean they’re going to teach me to fight properly? To duel?”

“Yes Harry. I am aware that you are already unusually good at duelling; however, it doesn’t help to be even more well prepared, does it?”

“No, sir”, Harry said breathlessly, already looking forward to learning. He’d wanted to be an Auror for a while now - this was exactly what he needed to give him a confidence boost.

“Excellent”, Dumbledore said brightly. “Well, I believe that is all then…unless you have any questions for me?”

“Er…yeah, yeah I do. Erm…Professor, can I…can I join the Order?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I think you already know the answer to that, Harry”.

“But…but sir, if you think about it, if I’m the only one who can defeat Voldemort, than surely -”

“Surely it would be better if you focussed your thoughts entirely on doing that, and not anything else, Harry. I understand your frustration, but there really is nothing much you could do even if you were a member - you’ll be at school, after all”. 

“But I want to help…I want to make a difference” Harry sighed. 

There was a long pause, before Dumbledore said very slowly, “And you do not think there is another way you can help? Another way you can make a difference?”

“Oh”, said Harry. “Oh, yeah”.

He looked up, abashed. Dumbledore merely smiled at him, and patted him on the shoulder. 

“I will be seeing you soon, Harry. And you know to get hold of me if there is something you want to discuss”.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, thank you sir”.

“Not at all, Harry. Now, Molly has made me promise to ensure that you go downstairs for some more dinner once we had finished our chat. Please do, Harry…I do not like being on the wrong side of a Weasley”.

Harry laughed. “No, me neither”.

“Well then, perhaps on your on your way downstairs you might pop in and see Miss Weasley…I’m sure she will be delighted” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

“Knowing Ginny, she’ll probably hex me”.

“Well then, you can consider it a head-start on your duelling training. Off you go now…pip pip!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. An Auror In Training

 

4

As Dumbledore had said, the next month seemed to fly past. Harry was taught by Kingsley on one day, and Tonks the next, in a large and unused room on the third floor. Harry still wasn’t sure whom he preferred teaching him; Kingsley seemed to take it slightly more seriously, and, if Harry was honest, seemed to be a better wizard. However, Tonks had a way of making him believe he could do things, and her friendly, breezy attitude was just what Harry needed after being worked to the bone by Kingsley.

They began by focussing on his shield charm, making sure it was sufficiently strong and that he could hold it for a while. Harry found that he mastered this pretty quickly, and was delighted that Kingsley was not able to get a single jinx through it, no matter how hard he tried.

“That’s good Harry, but you must remember, You Know Who is likely to be sending more than jelly-leg curses and stunning spells your way - you know that your shield will be useless in the face of the Unforgivable curses”.

“Yeah, I know”, Harry said heavily, wiping the sweat from his face. He had been thinking this too. “So what am I meant to do about them, then?”.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “The obvious. You must dodge them. Put your wand away Harry; you wont be needing it for a while”.

Kingsley proceeded to teach Harry a wide array of ducks, dodges and jumps. The rest of the day was spent throwing himself to the floor and getting up as quickly as possible in order to avoid the next hex Kingsley shot at him. 

When Harry was released in the evening he felt stiff all over, and felt bruises begin to rise on his body.

He wolfed down his dinner and had thirds, much to the delight of Mrs Weasley.

“I am glad you’ve got your appetite back, dear”, she beamed. “You are filling out nicely! Do you want some more treacle tart, now?”.

“No Mrs Weasley, honestly, I couldn’t eat anything else”, Harry said, resting his hands on his stomach.

“Oh alright then - but only because I know you’re a lot healthier - your cheeks are all lovely and pink!”

“Er, I think that’s a bruise, mum” Ron smirked.

 

Harry had told Ron and Ginny about his training, but not in full. He’d simply told them that Dumbledore felt that he should gain a bit of experience, in case he had to face Death Eaters again. He felt that he couldn’t tell them the lengths he was training to because they’d want to know why it was so important, and in order to explain that he’d have to tell about the prophecy - something he was putting off until Hermione came.

Harry hadn’t said anything to Dumbledore about the nightmares he’d been having at the Dursley, mainly because he thought once he was with the Weasleys they would stop. He had pretty much been right, although he never slept through the night fully; he’d wake up in a sweat in the early hours, trembling all over, but have no recollection of what he’d been dreaming. Harry thought that was probably a good thing. However, he woke up one morning sore and shattered, being bruised all over from his training and having had a particularly bad nights sleep. He trudged into the training room slowly, hoping that Kingsley wouldn’t work him too hard.

“Morning Harry”, Kingsley said briskly. “Today we’re going to study something different, something that Professor Dumbledore thinks is very important and is imperative that you master”.

“Okay” said Harry uneasily, wondering what he was going to have to do.

“You’re going to learn wandless magic” Kingsley said with a smile.

“Wandless magic?”, Harry echoed in disbelief. “But…but that’s really advanced! I wont be able to do that!”

“Dumbledore disagrees, Harry. Apparently you’ve already shown rather an aptitude for it”.

“I have? How? When?”

“I believe you…er…blew up your aunt a few years back, Harry. I was told that you certainly didn’t have a wand in your hand when that happened”.

“No, I didn’t…but it wasn’t intentional! It was just because I was so angry…I was really angry at her.”

“Then you’ll have to learn how to channel that anger. You have already proven that you’re capable of doing it, so now you’ll just have to learn to direct it”. 

It was, however, easier said than done. Harry grew more and more frustrated as Kinglsey shot spell after spell at him, and he was powerless to stop it. Kingsley instructed him to draw his arm in front of his body like he was slicing at the air, whilst all the time focussing, trying to push all this magical energy into the tips off his fingers.

“Protego!” Harry shouted, bringing his arm up, but again it was futile. He was blasted back into the wall and lay there for a moment, dazed, before getting to his feet and scowling at Kinglsey.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. You could’ve just shot a harmless hex at me”.

“You fell back a few feet, Harry, it’s hardly the cruciatus curse”.

“I’m aware of that, thank you”, Harry snapped back. 

His memories of being under the cruciatus curse were still all too clear. Kinglsey paused for a few moments, perhaps unsure what to say. Harry didn’t know if Kingsley was aware that Voldemore himself had performed the curse on him. Kinglsey clapped his hands together.

“Right…let’s go again”.

Harry sighed. “What’s the point? We both know I cant do it, it’s useless.”

“It most certainly is not useless. It is imperative that you learn this”.

“Why? Why do I need to learn bloody wandless magic?” he spat.

“Why? Use your brain, Potter” Kingsley barked, using Harry’s surname to show that he was displeased with him. “If you’re up against Death Eaters, there’s probably going to be more than one person shooting curses at you. Therefore, you’ll need to keep your shield up _at all times_ , whilst simultaneously returning your own hexes. It is your choice whether you use your wand or your hands to fire hexes, but it would be beneficial to learn both”.

 

Harry spent the rest of the day growing more and more frustrated; however hard he tried, he could not bring a shield up or fire jinxes without using his wand. When Kingsley finally released him, it was and tired and angry Harry who hauled himself downstairs.

“Harry!” said an excited voice, and he felt himself being hugged tightly, large amounts of bushy brown hair obscuring his vision.

“Hi Hermione” he said weakly, trying to disentangle himself from her embrace; she was pressing against his bruises. She pulled back and surveyed him.

“Oh, its great to see you again, I’ve really missed you. I was so worried, Ron said you looked so thin and ill when you arrived”.

Harry glared at Ron, who shrugged, but looked embarrassed. Hermione flung herself 

at Harry again.

“Oh Harry, I’m so relieved you’re okay!”.

Harry winced visibly this time, and she drew back, looking worried.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Nothing really…I’m just a bit sore, that’s all”.

“Ooh, is that from your training? Ron told me you were being taught how to defend yourself properly - he said you’re being taught by Aurors! What did you learn today?”

“Nothing” Harry said miserably. “Kingsley tried to teach me wandless magic, but I cant do it”.

“Wandless magic? Harry, that’s really advanced…no wonder you’re finding it hard”.

“Why are you learning wandless magic though? I thought you were just being taught how to do a shield and stuff?”

Harry sighed. “There’s something I have to tell you both. Let’s go in my room.”

The three walked upstairs, Ron and Hermione darting bemused looks at each other. They sat down on his bed, and Harry took the chair opposite it. Her cleared his throat, suddenly strangely nervous. 

“Erm…well, the thing is…you know all the stuff the Prophet’s been writing about me all summer? About being the Chosen One, and everything?”.

They nodded slowly.

“Well…the thing is…well, I’ve heard the prophecy. I know Neville smashed it, but the actual prophecy was made to Dumbledore years ago, and he told me what it said”.

“And what did it say, Harry?” Hermione asked, biting her lip.

“It says…it says…” Harry took a deep breath. “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord know…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_ …”. He tailed off miserably.

“Oh Harry…”. Hermione’s hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were filled with tears. Ron look confused.

“So…that means…what exactly?” he said, his brow furrowed.

“It means that the only person who has a real chance at killing Voldemort was born 16 years ago, at the end of July, to parents who had defied him three times”.

“It means…you?”

Harry nodded heavily.

“I thought it would be something like this”, Hermione whispered. “I just didn’t think it would be this bad. Oh Harry.”

“Blimey”, said Ron, who gone very pale, “But…what does it mean though, about you having powers that You Know Who hasn’t got?”

“I dunno really” said Harry honestly. “Dumbledore’s tried to explain it to me but I still don’t think I fully understand. He said it was love…the fact I can love is what protects me. Because Voldemort doesn’t undertand love”.

Hermione nodded, but Ron frowned. “I still don’t get how that protects you, though?”

“Nor do I really…but I do know that when we were at the ministry and Voldemort possessed me, he couldn’t stay in me, and Dumbledore said it was because he couldn’t handle the love that I felt” Harry said, feeling rather stupid.

Hermione and Ron stared at him.

“You didn’t tell us that Voldemort possessed you that night!” Ron said accusingly. 

“Didn’t I? I s’pose it must have slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind? You Know Who possessed you, and it slipped your mind?” Ron said weakly. “You’re mental!”

Harry flared up, and opened his mouth to retort angrily, but Hermione shushed him.

“Ron, that wasn’t a very sensitive thing to say. I’m sure Harry was more upset about…other events…that happened at the Ministry.”

Harry nodded at her greatfully, not wanting to get into any heated discussions.

“Now,” said Hermione, standing up briskly. “I think we should all go to bed. We’ve got to get up early to catch the train tomorrow. Come on, chop chop!”

Harry and Ron stared at her in amusement for a second, and then got to their feet and left the room.

 

In addition to the members of the Order, Harry was accompanied to the station flanked by two stern looking Aurors, dressed in Muggle suits. To his intense irritation, they insisted on gripping his arm tightly, and when he tried to wriggle free they responded by grasping him even tighter.

“I don’t need you to hold my hand, you know”, Harry said indignantly, but they gave no sign of having heard him, hurrying him through the barrier to the Hogwarts platform. Harry felt the familiar jolt of happinness as he saw the Hogwarts express, and the many students pilling onto the train.

“Hiya Harry!” said Neville, and Harry saw him, Dean and Seamus hurrying towards him, smiling broadly. Their smiles quickly faltered however as they noticed the two stern Aurors still on either side of Harry, and Dean’s eyes bulged.

“Blimey Harry, are they your guards? How long are they going to be with you?”

“They’re going now. I think…I think the Ministry just wanted to be extra safe…you, know…” he tailed off, hating that the Aurors were there. 

“Oh” Dean nodded. “Is that ‘cause of You Know Who? The Prophet’s been saying that you’re the Chosen One, and that’s why You Know Who is after you”.

“Yeah, well, the Prophet gets a lot of things wrong, doesn’t it?” Harry said quietly, unnerved by how accurate the Prophet was for once. He sensed Hermione and Ron glancing uneasily at each other, and quickly picked up his trunk and Hedwig’s cage.

“C’mon, let’s get a seat”.

 

As they walked down the train aisle, Harry noticed that the stares and whispers that he usually drew had increased tenfold. People actually darted out of their carriages to get a better look at him, and he heard snatches of conversation;

“…fought You Know Who at the Ministry…”

“…the Chosen One, apparently…”

“…d’you think it’s true…”

Harry felt himself flush. He kept his head down and stared straight ahead, trying to ignore it.

“What are you all staring at?”, came Ron’s voice loudly, and Harry felt once again grateful for the support of his friends. They piled into an empty carriage and flopped down on the seats. He sighed.

“Cheer up Harry” said Hermione briskly. “It’ll all die down soon”.

“What, like it did last year?” Harry muttered. “I think I’m going be using my invisibility cloak a lot more this year; it’s one way to avoid all the stares“.

 

The first half of the train journey was pretty uneventful. Ginny and Luna came in after a few hours, saying that they’d had enough of all the questioning.

“Honestly, they just went on and on asking what happened at the Ministry, whether I knew if Harry was the Chosen One, if it was true he really duelled with You Know Who…I couldn’t handle it any more”, Ginny said with a grimace, flinging herself down onto the seat opposite Harry. “I think this is going to be a bit of a tough year for you Harry, to be frank”.

“Yeah, well…I’ve never really had what you’d call an easy year, have I?” said Harry, trying to grin at Ginny. Things had been a little strained between them since their argument, although he had apologised and she had accepted readily. He couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy around her, although he couldn’t really pinpoint why.

The door of their compartment was suddenly drawn open, and Draco Malfoy stuck his head round, smirking at the five. Harry couldn’t help noticing that he seemed different; cockier, if that were possible.

“Well well well….if it isn’t Dumbledore’s Army. Reminiscing about your little stunt at the Ministry? How quaint. Well, better not get too complacent, Potter. Don’t think you’ve got away with what you did to my father. I’m just biding my time…when I do get my revenge, you wont even know what’s hit you”.

Harry laughed scathingly. “Well, you’ve got me running scared now, _Draco_. I suppose you make Voldemort seem like a but of a pussy cat, am I right?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “ _Don’t say his name_ ” he hissed.

“Why not?” Harry said casually. “I would have thought you’d like hearing it…might make you feel more at home. Then again, I don’t suppose your home life is that great at the moment…what with daddy being in Azkaban”.

Malfoy drew out his wand. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Potter”, he said quietly, his eyes darting from Harry’s face to the tip of Harry’s wand, which he’d drawn out straight after Malfoy had his. “You’ve had your warning. And let me tell you, I’m going to be watching you very carefully…and when I’ve done what I have to do, revenge will be so sweet”. He glared at Harry a few moments longer, and he turned on his heel and swept out.

“What did he mean, ‘when I’ve done what I have to do’?” asked Ginny, her brown furrowed.

Harry frowned for a while, thinking the same thing. “I think he’s a Death Eater”.

“Done be silly, Harry” said Hermione. “He’s 16!”

“I don’t think that matters“, Harry said firmly. “I think he’s taken his father’s place. Voldemort’s given him a job to do…I wonder what it is.”

 

A few hours later the train began to slow, and Harry realised they were nearing Hogwarts. Pulling his trunk out from under his seat, he delved inside until he found his invisibility cloak. 

“I think I’m going to wear this on the way out. I’m not in the mood to be gawked at. You guys go ahead, I’m going to have to wait until the train clears a bit; I don’t want to be bumping into people”. Harry swung the cloak over his shoulders and sat back down.

“Don’t be too long, Harry” Hermione whispered as she, Ron, Ginny and Luna filed out.

“I won’t”, Harry muttered back. He waited a few minutes and then stood up, and walked towards the door. Suddenly, a pain so intense shot through his scar that Harry crumpled to the ground, white spots dancing in front of his eyes. His head felt like it was splitting open; surely he was dead, no-one could survive pain this strong. And then he heard the voice; high and cold, gloating.

“Harry…Harry…it’s been a while since we talked. I hope you haven’t missed me too much. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other in the near future. But perhaps I should leave you with a little reminder of what I’ll be doing whilst you’re pottering around at school…perhaps it would be good to remind you of whom you’re dealing with…”

The voice stopped abruptly, and in its place flashed vision after vision, the most horrifying things Harry had ever seen. There was flash after flash of green light, bodies tumbling to the ground, their eyes blank and unseeing. Harry felt nauseated as he saw a child no older than 5 fall to ground, surrounded by Death Eaters. He saw the Death Eaters laughing and closed his eyes tightly, but the visions kept coming. And then finally, as the pain in his scar lessened, Harry saw Dumbldore; his eyes wide and his mouth open to speak, but then the green light flashed and Dumbledore fell to the ground, broken, ruined…dead. Harry felt his vision cloud, and in vain tried to throw the cloak of him, but before he could move he blacked out, his body hidden from view on a train that was about to leave.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The Never Ending Dream

5

“Harry! Harry!”

Harry opened his eyes slowly, his head still aching and felt hands underneath his head. He sat up quickly, looking around until his vision cleared and he saw Remus Lupin kneeling next to him, a concerned look creasing his features.

“Harry, are you alright? What happened?”

Harry continued looking around until he registered where they were; Hogsmeade station.

“How did you find me?”, he asked Lupin, ignoring his question. “I had the cloak over me”.

“Ron and Hermione told me”, Lupin replied dismissively. “I knew you must be on the train somewhere, so I just felt around until I found you. What happened, Harry?”

Harry rubbed his forehead - his scar was still tingling. “I dunno. I was just about to get off when my scar hurt. It was the strongest it’s ever been. And…I heard him. Voldemort. He was speaking to me, and then I got these visions…” 

“What visions, Harry?”

“Just…murders. Him and his Death Eaters killing loads of people. I don’t know if any of them happened, because he said that he was letting me know what he’s going to be up to when I’m at school. And at the end I saw Dumbledore being killed. So they cant be real visions, can they? He must’ve just wanted to scare me, right?”

Lupin frowned. “It’s not so much the visions that concern me, Harry. It’s the fact that he was talking directly to you. He’s completely aware of the connection you two have…that’s not good”.

“But he was aware of it last year. He put that image in my mind…the one of Sirius…to lure me to the Ministry. Isn’t it the same thing?”

“But he’s never talked directly to you, Harry. He must have fully realised the bond you have with each other, and he’s taking advantage of it. Imagine if he does this regularly…imagine how it’ll drain you. I’ll have to speak to Dumbledore about this; I fear you may have to start Occlumency again, Harry”.

Harry shook his head. “Not if I have to do it with Snape. I’d rather have the visions than spend any more time with _him_ than is necessary”.

Remus paused for a minute, and then spoke seriously. “Harry, I know you don’t like Snape…and I understand why. He’s never been one of my favourite people, either. But he’s on our side. There are bigger things happening now than a student-teacher dislike. You’re going to have to try and get past this”.

Harry shook his head again vehemently. “Its far more than just a student-teacher dislike, Remus. You must know that. He hates me like he hated my dad, like he hated Sirius. And I hate him. Every chance he gets he taunts me about how arrogant my dad was, how much he hated him, and now…if he does it with Sirius, I wont take it. I really wont”.

Remus sighed, and then nodded. “Okay, I know I wont be able to change your mind. Just think about it. Now,” he said, standing up and extending his hand to Harry to pull him up, “we should get to Hogwarts. I’m sure Ron and Hermione have been wondering what happened”.

 

Harry paused outside the Great Hall, listening to the buzz of voices, and the clink of cutlery on plates. He knew the feast was in full swing and really didn’t want to walk through the hall halfway through.

“Remus, do I…-”

“Yes, Harry”, Remus interrupted. “You should go in and eat something, it’ll make you feel better. Also, I have to go in to mention this to Dumbledore. Don’t look at me like that, Harry, he’d want to know. Come on, we can walk in together”.

Harry sighed, and pushed open the door, keeping his head down and speed walking over to the Gryffindor table. As fast as he was, the drop in voices was noticeable as people stopped talking to stare at him, some even standing up for a better look.

He slid into the empty seat next to Ron, and muttered hello.

“Mate, where have you been? We tried to wait but they wouldn’t let us, we told Lupin about the cloak and everything -”

“Yeah, he found me”, interjected Harry, reaching across the table and helping himself to some potatoes and sausages.

“What happened, Harry?”, asked Hermione anxiously. “You look really pale”.

“I’ll tell you later”, Harry replied, shovelling down forkfuls of food, aware of the other Gryffindors trying to listen in. He turned his head to see Remus leaning over the teacher’s table, deep in conversation with Dumbledore. He hoped Dumbledore would want to discuss it with him himself; Harry was sure Dumbledore would be able to explain the significance of it, and reassure him that none of the visions he had seen had actually happened. 

When the feast had finished and they were walking past the teacher’s table, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who nodded and smiled at him, but made no sign that he wanted to talk to him after. Harry felt a flicker of annoyance; did Dumbledore think that because he’d had visions in the past, that Harry might not still want to talk about it, need to talk about it? They traipsed into the common room and sank down onto the seat in front of the fire.

“So, Harry, what happened?”, Hermione whispered. Harry told them, and both of them took the same view as Lupin - Voldemort was obviously all too aware of the connection between them, and was using it to try and intimidate and weaken him.

Annoyingly, Hermione also shared Lupin’s view about restarting Occlumency.

“I have to say Harry, I think he’s right. You must be able to stop V-V-Voldemort putting all these images into your mind, it’s not good for you. It’d send the sanest person round the end, let alone someone who -” she stopped suddenly, closing her mouth and looking down. For a few seconds Harry simply wondered why she’d stopped speaking, and then he realised what she’d been about to say.

“Someone who what, Hermione?” he said loudly, bristling. “Obviously you don’t class me as very sane, but I’m curious now as to how you do see me. What were you going to say? Let alone someone who is mentally unstable, perhaps? A bit loopy?”

Harry knew he was irrationally angry, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. A few heads had turned their way and were listening interestedly. Hermione blushed but looked back up at Harry.

“Don’t be silly, you know I didn’t mean that. I just meant…that…you know..”

“Obviously I don’t know, Hermione”.

“You’re be silly, Harry! I just meant that it would be harder on someone who’s been through a lot…”

“Then why didn’t you say that? I don’t think it’s the fact that I’ve ‘been through a lot’, as you put it, it’s the fact that you don’t think I’m coping with it, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” he snapped when she didn’t respond.

“Harry, stop being an idiot, you know she didn’t mean anything” said Ron, although he was looking rather nervous as he said it. Harry saw the look and felt slightly bad, knowing Ron was worried that he was going to flip out at him too. Still, it would make anyone angry if their supposed best friend thought they weren’t exactly sane. Harry had had enough of people thinking he was crazy last year - he wasn’t anxious for his friends to start thinking the same.

“I’m going to bed” he said shortly. “I’ll see you both in the morning”.

 

Harry woke up the next day feeling bad about his outburst, and again frustrated at how easily his temper seemed to surface these days. He apologised gruffly to Hermione over breakfast, and she dismissed it as nothing.

“Don’t worry about it Harry. It would’ve annoyed me too. But you know I didn’t mean it like that, though”.

“Yeah, I know”.

It was still with a heavy heart that Harry ate his breakfast, however. It had nothing to do with Hermione, and everything to do with the fact that every time he looked up from his plate someone else was staring at him.

“Just ignore it, mate. They’ll get over it” Ron said, seeing Harry’s face.

“Why are they so interested though? All these people looking…they’re the same people who’ve been to school with me for the last five years. You’d think they’d have seen me enough by now” he muttered, bending his head again over his food.

“Yes, but its different now Harry”, said Hermione patiently. “Everyone knows you were right about V-V-Voldemort, everyone knows about you fighting him at the ministry, they know there’s something going on with you and him…”

“They know you’re the Chosen One too”, Ron said through a mouthful of toast.

“Ron! Shush!” Hermione hissed. “They _think_ you’re the Chosen One…of course you’re going to be interesting to them”.

“Yeah, well…it better not be like this all year.”

“Oh, Harry, we were going to tell you last night, but…erm…we didn’t get round to it”, Hermione said, obviously referring to Harry’s outburst. “But...um…Snape’s got the Defence Against the Dark Arts job” she finished quickly.

“What??” Harry exploded. “What’s Dumbledore playing at? Who’s teaching Potions then? I cant believe he’s given it to that greasy git…why? Why would he do that?”

“That’s exactly what I said, Harry” Ron nodded. “Although Hermione disagrees, of course”.

“Well, I just think that Dumbledore wouldn’t have given it to Snape unless he trusted him completely. I cant imagine that he could be so wrong about someone…I think if Dumbledore trusts Snape then so should we”, she said firmly.

Harry snorted. “I’ll never trust him. Never. He’s a slimy, foul, pathetic scumbag. I bet he just wants the position so he can try and woo people over to the Dark Arts”.

“Nah, even Snape wouldn’t be that stupid,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Not right under Dumbledore’s nose, he wouldn’t. But I agree with you Harry, I don’t trust him either”.

“Well, we haven’t got Defence for a couple of days, so we don’t have to worry about it until then”, said Hermione, consulting her timetable. “Come on, hurry up with your breakfast or we’ll be late for Charms.”

 

The first two days were relatively uneventful; Harry was relieved that the level of work hadn’t been a huge step up from their O.W.Ls, and was also grateful for the free periods they had scattered throughout the day, which Hermione spent doing homework or doing extra reading, and Ron and he spent playing wizard chess or just lounging in their chairs, talking and watching Hermione work. The only thing that really got him down, of course, was that the level of interest in him had not abated. People stared at him openly, and whispers accompanied him wherever he went. Some people went one step further, and actually went up to him and asked him directly whatever they were wondering. On the second day, a fifth year girl came right up to Harry, and asked him straight out if the was the Chosen One. Harry blinked at her, too surprised to speak.

“I read it in the Prophet”, she said, by way of explanation. “They’ve been saying that all summer”.

“Yeah, well don’t believe everything you read in the Prophet” Harry said darkly, walking away. He hoped no-one else would ask him outright whether he was the Chosen One - he wasn’t going to say he was, of course, but would feel uneasy if he had to deny it completely. 

 

Harry felt strangely exhausted as he climbed into his bed that night, taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table. He had received a note from Dumbledore that evening, stating that he would be continuing with his training five times a week with Kingsley and Tonks, and Harry knew that if he felt tired now, it would be nothing compared to when training began. He had felt disappointed and annoyed when there had been no mention of Harry meeting Dumbledore any time soon; Harry had thought Dumbledore would want to talk to Harry more now, about the prophecy, his dreams and Voldemort, and Harry felt slightly hurt that apparently Dumbledore didn’t think the vision on the Hogwarts express was worth talking about. It certainly felt important to Harry. Sighing, he said goodnight to Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean and pushed his head deep into the pillow, trying to push all unwelcome thoughts from his head; he was restarting his training tomorrow ; he’d need a good nights sleep. 

He was on his firebolt, gliding over the Quidditch pitch, feeling the wind lift his hair, and he felt alive for the first time in months, strong and rejuvenated. He twisted his body and felt his broom swing left, and he caught sight of another figure hovering on a broom a while away. He felt something drawing him towards it, urging him to fly closer. As the figure came into focus, Harry realised that it was Ginny Weasley, and a strange jolt of happinness kicked into his stomach. Her red hair flickered in the breeze and she smiled gently at him, and he grinned back, almost drowing in the depths of her deep brown eyes. Harry drew closer until he was able to count every freckle that splashed perfectly along the bridge of her nose, closer until he could feel her warm breath on his cheek…he closed his eyes, about to lean in and kiss her, when another jolt hit his stomach. He opened his eyes quickly, and instead of Ginny’s face in front of his there was another; the white face with glowing red eyes, the face with slits for a nose, the face that had come to haunt his every waking moment - the face that he had come to fear above all others. Voldemort smiled, a horrible, mirthless smile. 

“Harry…I told you I’d be in touch. Have you missed me? No? How rude. Perhaps you need to be taught some manners…perhaps you need to have your memory jogged…like this, perhaps…”

Voldemort’s voice vanished and again Harry felt unwanted images flash before his eyes. His parents…his father running, shouting, a flash of light, his father tumbling down the stairs and lying still at the bottom…his mother screaming, begging, a flash of light, her tumbling to the floor like a broken doll…Cedric’s puzzled face, a flash of light, Cedric‘s blank grey eyes staring unseeingly at the sky…and then Sirius…Sirius…battling to save Harry’s life, the look of surprise on his face vanishing as he disappeared forever behing the flickering veil…

 

Harry felt something hard hit him around the face, once, twice, and he jolted into consciousness. But there was no waking from the nightmare…he was in his dormitory, he could see Neville, Dean and Seamus looking terrified. But standing over him was the one person he hated as much as Voldemort…the person he wanted to hurt…to kill… 

Bellatrix Lestrange stood over Harry, smiling manically.

“Harry…”, she said in her horrible, mock baby voice. “What’s the matter, Harry?”

“You!” Harry snarled, leaping to his feet and snatching up his wand from his bedside table. He launched himself at her, pining her to the wall and pressing his wand against her neck.

“I’m going to kill you!”, he roared, his eyes half blinded with his hate.

“Harry, no! What are you doing?”

He heard people shouting, felt hands gripping him and pulling him back; he struggled with all his strength but there seemed to be three people holding him. He fell to the ground, hitting his head hard against the bed. White stars exploded in his eyes, and he lay there, dazed for a few moments, before opening his eyes slowly. Seamus, Dean and Neville were all pining him down to the floor, their faces flushed with the effort of holding him down. Neville’s face was anxious; Dean and Seamus looked positively terrified. Harry raised his eyes to where Bellatrix had been, but she was not there. In her place stood Ron, his face red, one hand rubbing his throat. He looked at Harry.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” he shouted. “You could have killed me!”

Harry blinked. What was going on?

“You probably would’ve killed me if the others hadn’t pulled you off me…what were you playing at?” 

“I…you…what?”, Harry said weakly. He shook his head, unable to believe he had attacked Ron. It must have been a dream…but he had woken, and still seen Bellatrix…what was happening?

“You were dreaming, Harry” said Neville, seeing his confusion. “You were shouting in your sleep and woke us up. Ron tried to wake you but you wouldn’t wake, you just kept shouting. Then Seamus slapped you and you seemed to wake, but then you…just jumped at Ron and…” he finished, looking uneasy.

Harry looked up at Ron. “Ron, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…it wasn’t you…I mean, I must have still been dreaming.”

“You could have killed me, Harry!”, Ron said faintly, still rubbing the place on his throat where Harry had pointed his wand.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered again, aware of the looks Dean and Seamus were giving each other. Ron noticed too, and that seemed to pull him to his senses.

“Right, show’s over you three. Harry had a nightmare, it’s fine. You can get off him now”.

Neville got up at once, smiling nervously at Harry, and then shuffled over to his bed. Dean and Seamus looked at Harry warily, as if worried he was going to attack them.

“I’m not going to jump on you, you know” he snapped.

They got up slowly and walked to their beds, but then Seamus turned round.

“What if you have another dream, though? What if you attack any one of us? You don’t know what you’d do, you could kill us!”

Harry felt a flicker of annoyance, but he knew Seamus was right.

“Here”, he said firmly, holding out his wand to Seamus. “You keep my wand, give it to me in the morning. I wont be able to much without it, will I?”

Seamus looked at Harry’s wand, and then took it, stowing it under his pillow.

“You better not try and steal it back, though…I’ll know if you do”.

Harry took a deep, calming breath. “I’m not going to steal it back, Seamus. Believe it or not, I don’t particularly want to wake up and see that I tried to attack one of my friends. It doesn’t exactly make me feel good. You can have my wand every night, if it’ll make you feel safer”.

Seamus nodded, and then climbed into bed. Harry looked at Ron, who was hovering next to him, looking rather nervous. Harry opened his mouth to apologise again, but Ron spoke first.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I know you were still dreaming. But…er…I think it is good thing that you gave Seamus you wand. You know…just in case”.

Harry nodded glumly.

“Maybe you should speak to Dumbledore about this tomorrow, though. It cant be a good thing…having dreams like that.”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, he didn’t seem very interested when he heard about what happened on the train. He hasn’t wanted to talk to me about that”.

Ron shrugged too, and clambered into bed. “Well, you should tell Lupin, anyway. Night Harry”.

“Night”.

  



	6. Of Snape, & Scars...

**6**

 

The next morning was sufficiently awkward, what with Harry having to ask Seamus for his wand back, and seeing the wary looks he and Dean kept shooting at him. Harry knew neither Dean nor Seamus meant it nastily, and he knew if he were them he’d be the same, but it did nothing to improve his annoyance. Harry was a little late for breakfast and when he sat down next to Ron and Hermione he knew that Ron had told her about the previous night. She was looking at him carefully, noting his troubled eyes and the dark circles underneath. She took a breath, but Harry spoke over her.

 

“Yes, I know I should go and see Dumbledore, Hermione. I’m not stupid”.

 

“I didn’t say you were!”, she replied, looking hurt. “I wasn’t just going to say that, either. Yes, I do think you should go and see him, but I was also wondering how you are…you look awful. I think you maybe should go to Madam Pompfrey and ask for some of that dreamless sleep potion. You wont be able to concentrate on any of your lessons if you’re not managing to sleep properly. You look shattered”.

 

“Yeah, I am”, Harry admitted. He hadn’t gone back to sleep that night; he’d kept himself awake deliberating, propping himself up with his pillows, scared that if he slept he’d wake up to find himself strangling Neville, or something. “But I cant really take the dreamless sleep potion - it becomes ineffective if you use it too regularly, and its meant to be taken after a trauma or something, not as an every day relief from nightmares”.

 

Hermione nodded. “Alright, but you should still see Dumbledore about it, Harry. This is important. I know you don’t like going to him with every problem, but this is different - you know it is”.

 

“Yeah, I s’pose. But not today, alright? I’ll go tomorrow or something…I don’t really want to see him today.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing.

 

“What have we got today?” asked Harry, trying to change the subject.

 

“Defence against the Dark Arts in the morning, and then Transfiguration in the afternoon. Come on, we’d better hurry…we don’t want to be late for Snape’s first lesson”. 

They weren’t late, and queued up outside the class with the other students who, to Harry’s disgust, included Draco Malfoy. To Harry’s surprise he did not make any comments, just merely looked at them derisively from the corner of his eye, a small smile playing on his lips. Harry felt Ron’s elbow dig into his ribs and looked up to see Snape striding down the corridor, his black robes billowing behind him as per usual.

“In” he said to the class, holding the door open. They filed in quietly and took their seats. Snape walked in front of his desk and leant languidly against it, surveying the class, his eyes lingering on Harry. His lip curled and Harry glared back until Snape looked away. 

“I must say I was surprised to see so many of you pass your O.W.L in this subject, but then stranger things have happened“, he began silkily. “Your teaching has been exceedingly inconsistent, with your professors ranging from a deranged lunatic to a dangerous werewolf.”

Harry felt himself bristle at this slur on Lupin, but forced himself not to react, knowing Snape’s eyes were on him, and that he was looking for a reaction.

“Many of you will find that you will not be able to reach the high standards that I expect in this class. Perhaps _some_ of you have been used to relying on other factors - like fame, for example - in order to gain a good reputation in this subject. You’ll find fame has no place in my class. I’ve found that the hype surrounding…certain people…“ - here his eyes fell on Harry - “has often been used to cover up a complete lack of talent”.

Snape paused, clearly enjoying himself. Harry felt his classmates’ eyes on him as they wondered whether he would react. He gritted his teeth and stared determinedly ahead.

“If you are prepared to listen and learn, I can teach you how to defend yourself against far more than just the Dark Lord and his followers. This world is, sadly, also occupied by vampires, giants, werewolves and probably most dangerously…”, his gaze lingered on Harry again, “murderers”. 

Harry felt himself flinch; he knew Snape was referring to Sirius and didn’t know how long his temper would take to arise if he continued. He saw Seamus and Dean exchange puzzled looks, aware that Snape was goading Harry but not sure how exactly he was doing it. He caught Hermione’s eye and she gave him a sympathetic look, trying to warn him to stay calm.

“Today we will begin by practising non-verbal magic. Instead of bellowing out curses, which gives your opponent a split-second advantage, non-verbal magic means that you have the upper hand - you will have the advantage, as your enemy will have no warning of what you are doing. You must concentrate; think the spell over and over in your mind. Split into pairs and practise stunning. Now”.

The class was silent for a moment, slightly stunned by the lack of instructions, then they grouped into pairs, Harry with Hermione, Ron with Dean. It soon became apparent that no-one was able to produce the jinx without uttering the words; Snape prowled around the classroom looking more and more disgusted. It was only when the class was about to finish when anything at all happened; Harry once again attempted to stun Hermione, and although it didn’t quite work, she came over all faint and sank down to the floor. Snape had seen this, but when he saw that it was Harry who had done it, promptly turned his back again.

That was absolutely pathetic” he sneered to the class. “I expect everyone to have shown signs of significant improval by the next lesson. Go”.

Harry hurried out of the class, hating Snape, He didn’t care what Remus said - he would never, and could never trust Snape. Ron and Hermione followed him out, rolling their eyes.

“God, he’s awful isn’t he?” said Ron darkly. “The stuff he was implying about Lupin and Sirius…I wanted to hit him!”

“Yes, well, we should be used to it by now”, said Hermione briskly. “But well done for staying calm Harry - you know he was only looking for a reaction”.

Harry grunted in assent, and the three walked back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry couldn’t help noticing that Ron kept looking at Hermione when her back was turned, and that she did the same to Ron when she thought he wasn’t looking. Harry half wished they would just get on with it and admit they liked each other; this had been going on for a while now. 

After lunch they had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and so they arrived on time, knowing that, like Snape, McGonagall despised lateness. No sooner than they had sat down in their chairs then Professor McGonagall walked in. Seeing as to was not their first Transfiguration lesson of the year she did not have to underline what she expected of them, but she began talking seriously about whether she was not sure, judging by the state of many people’s homework from the first day, that some students were taking the subject seriously enough.

“You should know that your N.E.W.Ts are a big step up from your O.W.Ls, and you cannot expect to pass without putting in twice as much work as you did last year”.

Ron caught Harry’s eye and gave him a horrified look.

Professor McGonagall continued hammering the point home, and Harry tuned out, his eyelids drooping against his will. His lack of sleep from his previous night was catching up with him, and the warm September sun was making him drowsy. Safe in knowledge that he was hidden behind Lavender Brown, he dropped his head onto his hands and closed his eyes, letting himself have a little five minute doze.

Ron looked away from Professor McGonagall, hoping to catch Harry’s eye and share their disgust for McGonagall’s idea of what was necessary studying time. To his surprise he saw Harry’s face on his arms, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. He smirked and nudged Hermione, whose mouth went into a thin line as she saw Harry sleeping. She tutted.

“Wake him up, Ron, before McGonagall sees him” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Ron turned obligingly, and tried to reach out his foot to nudge Harry’s. Their desks were separated by an aisle, so he could not nudge Harry as easily as he had Hermione.

“Oi! Harry!” he hissed. “Wake up!”

“Is there a problem, Mr Weasley?” said Professor McGonagall sternly, walking towards him.

“Er…no, Professor. I was just…clearing my throat” Ron muttered unconvincingly. 

“Hmm” Professor McGonagall, clearly not believing him. Her eyes fell on Harry, and her nostrils flared. “Is Potter sleeping? Has he actually fallen asleep?”

The class looked at Harry, and some people started to laugh as they looked at Harry, who was completely oblivious to Professor McGonagall’s growing anger.

“Wake him at once, Mr Weasley!”

Ron nudged Harry hard. “Wake up, mate. You’re going to be in so much trouble…”

Harry twitched violently and muttered something but still didn’t wake. Ron gripped his shoulders and positively shook him, but still Harry didn’t wake although he moaned slightly.

“Is he ill?” snapped Professor McGonagall, walking closer to Harry.

“Er…no, I don’t think so”, said Ron, glancing at Hermione worriedly. And then suddenly, as though he’d received an electric shock, Harry jolted back into his seat, trembling, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

“Potter? Potter, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Harry, are you alright?” asked Ron concernedly, leaning across the aisle. Harry’s eyes met his, unfocussed and blank. He stared at Ron for a while, and then he spoke.

“The Blood Traitor family will be one of the first to go”, he spat. “You’re hardly better than the Mudbloods you associate with. But don’t worry, they’ll be the priority”. Harry’s eyes fell on Hermione, who was staring at him with her hand clapped over her mouth. “Yes, I think this particular Mudblood has been irksome enough to warrant my personal…elimination”.

The class gasped in horror, and Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared.

“How dare you use such language, Potter! How dare you -”

“It’s not him, Professor!”, squeaked Hermione. “It’s not him”

Harry’s head suddenly dropped again, and the class fell silent. Harry’s hands gripped the desk and his breath came in loud, ragged gasps. For once in her life Professor McGonagall was at a loss for what to do.

“No…no…please” Harry murmured, shaking his head violently. “No! No!”

“Someone do something!” Hermione whispered, her eyes glistening with tears, but before anyone could reply, the room was full of Harry’s yells as he collapsed to the floor, his hands pressed against his scar, writhing in agony.

“Potter!” Professor McGonagall rushed towards him, followed by Ron and Hermione. The rest of the class just stared, to stunned to speak. After a while his yells subsided, and Hermione drew his hands away from his face. She let out a small scream; blood was oozing down his forehead and over his eyes, and he seemed to be having difficulty staying conscious. 

“Professor…I…I think his scar’s split open!” gasped Hermione.

Professor McGonagall went pale, and leaned over Harry. “Potter? Harry? Can you hear me?”

Harry groaned, indicating that he could. Ron slipped his arm under Harry’s shoulder and hoisted him up. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital wing”.

Hermione ducked under Harry’s other shoulder, and they half dragged him out of the classroom, leaving behind a horrified class and a trembling Professor McGonagall.

 

Harry opened his eyes gingerly. His vision was blurred, and he blinked a few times to clear it. The first thing he saw was lots of bushy brown hair as Hermione leaned in.

“Oh Harry, you’re awake! We’ve been so worried…McGonagall’s been in to see you three times already”.

“Three…three times?” Harry murmured. “How long have I been in the hospital wing?”

“Only one day. I tell you Harry, you gave everyone such a fright. Everyone’s been talking about it; the whole school knows!” Ron said earnestly.

“Great”, Harry muttered dully. “That’s just what I need”.

“Harry, what happened? Can you remember what happened yesterday?”

Harry frowned. “Yeah, I can…but…I dunno…its weird.”

“What’s weird?”, Ron asked, leaning forward slightly in interest.

Harry didn’t say anything, still thinking. A noise made the three look up suddenly; Professor Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with a small smile.

“Ah, Harry. Welcome back. I hoped it wouldn’t be long until you woke.”

Harry nodded, unsure what to say. He was still slightly annoyed with Dumbledore; if he had bothered to talk to Harry himself about what had happened on the train perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. Dumbledore looked at Ron and Hermione.

“Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, I appreciate your concern for Harry, but I must ask to speak privately with him for a moment. It is a matter of great importance”.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to protest, but Hermione jumped to her feet, pulling Ron up with her.

“Of course, Professor. Harry,” she said, turning to him, “we’ll be up again later, okay?”

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore conjured up a small armchair next to Harry’s bed, which he sat down on as Ron and Hermione left. He surveyed Harry over his half-moon spectacles before speaking.

“How are you feeling, Harry?”

“I’m fine, sir”, replied Harry, rather stiffly.

Dumbledore nodded, obviously not believing him but not pushing it any more. “Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what happened in your Transfiguration lesson”.

Harry sighed, and put his hand up to rub his scar instinctively. To his surprise he found that his fingers touched gauze rather than skin, and realised that his forehead was bandaged over.

“Yes, I’m told that your scar split open”, Dumbledore said gravely. “And apparently, it wouldn’t stop bleeding.” He paused for a minute, looking at Harry very intently. “What happened, Harry?”

“You know already” Harry said, not wanting to go through it all again.

Dumbledore nodded. “I do, yes. But I would like to hear it from you, as well“.

Harry sighed, then took a deep breath. “I’m not sure exactly what happened. I remember being tired, because I hadn’t slept well the night before -”. He paused, unsure whether to mention the dream, unsure whether Dumbledore already knew.

“Mr Weasley has informed me about the dream you had, Harry. Please continue”.

“Er…well, I fell asleep. And…and…I remember him speaking to me. Voldemort. I cant remember specifically what he was saying, I think he was just trying to scare me, threaten me. Um…and then I woke up, but I don’t think I did fully. I mean, everything was blurry, and I could see Ron and Hermione and everyone, but it didn’t really register who they were, if that makes sense…”

“Perfect sense, Harry. Go on”.

“And then I could feel myself speaking to Ron and Hermione…but it wasn’t me. It was him, he was using me. I tried to stop it…but I couldn’t…at least not straight away. I think I managed to push him out because I remember feeling really tired and drained. And then…and then…he came back. He said he was going to remind me what pain was, because he thought I’d forgotten”. Harry stopped suddenly and was silent. He stared at the bed covers, trying to make sense of what had happened next. He had heard Voldemort say “Crucio”, he had felt a million knives sink into his body…but that wasn’t possible…

“He performed the Cruciatus curse on you, didn’t he?” asked Dumbledore quietly.

Harry looked up quickly, and then nodded. “But, sir…how could he have? We weren’t near each other…even Voldemort cant do magic like that…can he?”

“No, he cannot” Dumbledore said simply.

Harry stared. “But then…how did he…?”

“I’m not entirely sure myself, Harry. I think it must be to do with the bond you share…the bond that is represented by your scar. I think that bond was pushed to its limits, which was why your scar burst open. And that is something we must make sure never happens again. I think your scar is of more significance than you realise, Harry. You were unconscious for over a day not because of being under the Cruciatus curse, but because your scar split. Voldemort will not do this again immediately, mainly because it would have drained him too…possessing you like that, even for that short while, would have caused him agony, as you saw when he attempted it at the Ministry. We must, however, make sure he is not able to do it again”.

“Occlumency”, said Harry dully.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, Harry, occlumency.” 

“I’m not doing it with Snape”, Harry said bluntly. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but Harry cut him off. “I don’t care what you say. I’m not doing it with him. I’m not letting him get in my head…I’m not letting him see -” He stopped.

Dumbledore sighed. “I understand that you don’t want to give Professor Snape access to your mind, to certain memories, Harry. Especially now, as I know some memories are very special to you now Sirius is gone”.

Harry said nothing, slightly put out by Dumbledore’s unnerving ability to know what he was thinking. 

“That is why I will be teaching you, Harry” he continued, smiling at Harry’s look of surprise. “Yes, I am a rather skilled Occlumens, if I do say so myself. But Harry, there is one condition; as gifted as I am at Occlumency, I am not as skilled as Professor Snape”.

“Yeah, well, is it any surprise he’s so good?” spat Harry before he could think. “All the work he did for Voldemort made damn sure he was a good liar, didn’t it? How do you know he‘s not still working for him? Snape could easily lie and fool you, you know he could.”

Harry knew he had crossed the line immediately. Although he did not speak, Dumbledore gazed at Harry with such severity that Harry suddenly wanted to hide under his bed covers.

“ _Professor_ Snape, Harry. We have spoken of this before, and I have informed you that I trust Severus inexplicitly. I do not appreciate your continued attempts to convince me otherwise.”

Harry said nothing, but glared at Dumbledore’s feet.

“As I was saying, there is one condition. After I have taught you the rudimentary basics, you will need to test yourself against someone who is as good an Occlumens as Voldemort himself. Therefore, you will need Professor Snape for that. Wait, Harry,” he said as Harry opened his mouth furiously, “you will not be alone. Your lessons will take place in my office, and I will be present, as will Remus Lupin”.

“Lupin will be there?”

“Yes” agreed Dumbledore. “When I informed him that I thought Professor Snape must have some input in your learning Occlumency again, he…er…insisted that he be present too.”

“Right. Good” said Harry. He closed his eyes for a second, suddenly tired. Dumbledore noticed this and stood up.

“Yes, you should sleep now, and regain your strength. You should be allowed out the day after tomorrow, provided you have no more nightmares. I think it’s important that you start your lessons as soon as possible, so perhaps we should start tomorrow evening, Harry, at eight?”

Harry nodded tiredly, settling back onto his pillows. Dumbledore smiled at him briefly, then crossed the room and shut the door behind him.

 


	7. The Prophecy Revealed

  


 

****

7

****

The next few days were hell for Harry. The news of what had happened in the Transfiguration lesson had spread throughout the school within minutes, with the stories becoming more and more exaggerated. Most people seemed to think he had had some kind of fit, and then woke up and started hexing everyone, talking in Voldemort’s voice and cursing all the Mudbloods. It did nothing to dispel the Chosen One rumours; apparently people seemed to think that this was proof that he was indeed the Chosen One - why would Voldemort possess him otherwise?

The whispers and looks he drew had increased even more, if that were possible, and even when he was in the Gryffindor common room he could not escape from it. His closer friends avoided asking him about it, but still he saw the curious looks Dean, Seamus, Parvati and the likes shot at him. It was mainly the younger Gryffindors who actually asked him about it, or, more annoyingly, just hovered next to him, hoping to hear what he was saying, until Ron chased them away.

 

The day he was due to start his first Occlumency class started horribly. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked down the stairs on their way to breakfast when Harry realised he’d forgotten his Charms homework in the Common room.

“I’d better get it if we’re going straight to Charms after breakfast. I’ll meet you lot in the hall,” he said heavily, doubling back. He hurried back upstairs, snatched his homework from the table and ran back down the corridor, his stomach growling. As he walked into the Great Hall, however, he was greeted with a silence so absolute that it seemed someone had cast a silencing spell. The whole of the hall simply stared at him. Although being stared at was now a daily occurrence, it had never been like this. Harry frowned, and walked swiftly to his seat with the Gryffindors. To his intense dismay, the looks did not stop there. Lavender was goggling at him, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” Harry asked irritably.

“So it’s true then?” whispered Seamus, leaning forward eagerly.

“What’s true?” Harry snapped. “What are you all talking about?”

“Erm…Harry…” Hermione was looking at him, biting her lip and looking as if she was dreading what she was about to say. “Er…the Prophet’s just arrived….and…”

“What are they saying about me now?” Harry said, his heart sinking.

“Er…well…maybe you should read it for yourself,” said Ron quietly, handing Harry one of the many newspapers strewn across the table. Harry reached for it, and as he saw the headline his heart stopped.

“THE PROPHECY IS REVEALED: HARRY POTTER IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN KILL HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED.”

Harry blinked in shock. “What…? How…?”

“Read it, Harry,” urged Hermione.

Harry began to read it silently. 

“ _It has been revealed that there is indeed a prophecy concerning Harry Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named, and, as the Prophet reported over the summer, that Mr Potter is indeed the Chosen One. An anonymous source revealed the entire contents of the prophecy to the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, who felt it was his duty to inform the Daily Prophet._ __

“The world should know the truth about this, I believe,” stated Mr Scrimgeour last night. “This is not only about Mr Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named - it involves every one of us. It is Mr Potter’s duty to eliminate He Who Must Not Be Named , but of course the Ministry is aware of the fact that he is not yet seventeen. We will be more than happy to put a highly trained team of Aurors under his command if he is willing to discuss these matters with the Ministry.”

__

He Who Must Not Be Named has attempted to kill Mr Potter on more than one occasion, and Potter has insisted for over a year that He Who Must Not Be Named had returned, which was proven when he was sighted at the Ministry last June. Mr Potter, incidentally, was also there, and rumour has it that the two duelled.

__

Potter is currently in his sixth year at Hogwarts school, but the question must be raised of whether it is still appropriate for him to continue with his education in the light of things. Should Potter really be focussed on turning teacups into toads when there are people dying? Should he perhaps be taking his role as the Chosen One more seriously, considering that there are thousands of lives at risk, not just his?

__

“It was a very sad day for the wizarding world when Potter was revealed as the Chosen One” said Dolores Umbridge, former Headmistress of Hogwarts. “I myself taught Mr Potter for a year, and he is certainly not exceptional. I must confess at being very worried that it is he who is the only one who can rid us of the Dark Lord; I fear we do not have much hope of his achieving this.”

__

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and who is thought to have a close relationship with Mr Potter, declined to comment yesterday.

__

For the full contents of the prophecy turn to page 5.

__

Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione, his face blank.

“How do they know?”, he whispered, crumpling up the newspaper in his hand.

“I dunno, mate,” said Ron. “I dunno who could have told them.”

Harry looked around the hall; every face was turned towards him, even those at the teachers’ table. Dumbledore’s seat was empty, but Professor McGonagall was looking at him, concern written all over her face. Snape too, was looking at Harry intently, a finger tracing his mouth, his expression unreadable. Harry stood up shakily.

“I’ll see you lot later,” he muttered, swinging his school bag over his shoulder. As he turned to walk out, the silence lifted slightly and the whispering started up. Some people began to shout questions at Harry, but he increased his stride and ignored tried to them.

“Hey, Potter, if you’re the Chosen One why are you still here? You be should trying to get rid of You Know Who! It’s your duty! How many more people are going to die while you doss about and play Quidditch?” an angry voice shouted. Harry turned slowly, unable to comprehend what he had heard, a dull flush creeping over his face. Zacharias Smith was standing up at his table, his arms folded contemptuously. 

“When are you going to get your act together and actually do something?”

Unable to speak, Harry just stared at him, his face red with anger and shock. He opened his mouth to speak to Professor McGonagall got there first.

“How dare you! How DARE you! Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Mr Smith. You have absolutely no idea of what you’re talking about. If I every hear you talk like that again you will be in the Headmaster’s office before you can blink.”

Smith scowled, but sank down to his seat again. Harry stood still for a minute, and then turned to leave.

“Harry?” said Professor McGonagall quietly, taking a step towards him. Harry looked at her for a moment, then shook his head numbly, hurrying out of the hall.

 

Harry sat under his favourite tree beside the lake and tried to collect his thoughts. How had they found out? How did they know exactly what the prophecy had said, all the exact working of it? And how could Smith say that? How many more people thought that he shouldn’t be at school? Despite her rebuke of Smith’s words, did Professor McGonagall privately agree with him? Did she think that Harry should be out there now, hunting Voldemort? Should he? How would he manage though? He was nowhere near trained enough, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Groaning, Harry buried his head in his hands. A twig behind him cracked suddenly and Harry jumped up, instinctively pulling out his wand. Ginny stood a few feet for him, calmly looking at him.

“Easy, Harry. Its just me.”

Harry put his wand back into his pocket slowly and sat back down. “Sorry. You just startled me a bit.”

She sat down next to him, crossing her legs and looking out at the lake.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry you’re the Chosen One,” she said simply, noticing his look of confusion. “And I’m sorry everyone knows. I cant imagine how hard this must be for you.”

Harry said nothing, looking at her from the corner of his eye as she stared intently at the lake.

“But most of all, Harry,” she said, turning to face him, “I’m sorry for getting annoyed with you over summer when you didn’t want to tell me what was wrong. I didn’t really…I dunno…I didn’t really think of it from your point of view. And I understand why you didn’t want to tell anyone. It must have been so horrible just to think about it, let alone talk about it.”

Harry nodded, grateful that she understood. “Its just…sometimes I don’t know how I’m ever meant to do it. Kill him, I mean. Umbridge was right, what she said in the Prophet. I’m just ordinary, how can I ever -”

“Don’t you listen to a word that Umbridge bitch says!” Ginny interrupted, her eyes flashing angrily. “She’s evil and pathetic, and completely wrong. Think what you’ve done, Harry. You saved the Philosopher’s stone in the first year, you saved my life and got rid of Tom in your second year, third year you saved Sirius’s life and got rid of about a hundred dementors, fourth year you won the Triwizard Tournament and escaped from You Know Who again, last year you -”

“Ginny, its not like that!” Harry said angrily. “It wasn’t like that, it wasn’t like I did it all myself, I had loads of help from everyone, from Ron, from Hermione, from Dumbledore, last year I had you there too, and Luna and everyone - I couldn’t have done it myself, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t had help -”

“So you had help! What’s your point? Most people still wouldn’t have had a chance even with all the help you had. Harry, you don’t see how extraordinary you are. You’ve done all these things, even with a bit of help, and you’re only sixteen! You’ve escaped from You Know Who God knows how many times, duelled with him - and you’re not even of age! Don’t you see how amazing that is? You can fight the Imperious curse - I don’t know anyone who can do that! You’re the best in the year at Defence against the Dark Arts, you know you are, you proved it last year! You’re incredibly strong minded, as Umbridge very well knows, you’re determined, you’re strong, you’re loyal, you’re brave…Harry, I cant think of anyone who could do this better than you…”

Harry said nothing. For some reason he felt close to tears, and stared at the grass.

“Yeah, but Ginny, even if you’re right about all that stuff…I’ve still got to kill him. And you know that’s going to be harder than anything else I’ve faced. And I’m the only one who can do it. I’m so alone in this.”

Ginny grabbed his chin and pulled his face up so he was looking at her. “Don’t you dare say that, Harry,” she said fiercely. “You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone. You might be the one who has to kill him, but you know we’re going to be standing there beside you. You know we wont leave you.”

“But Gin, don’t you see? I’m the one who’s got to do this, no-one else. How many more people are going to have die because of me? Because they’ve stood beside me?”

“Harry, don’t be stupid!” Ginny said angrily. “This isn’t just about you! We’re all involved! You Know Who has affected all our lives…mine especially, in case you don’t remember. Sirius didn’t die because of you, Harry. Harry, look at me,” she commanded, as Harry turned away. “Look at me. None of this is your fault. Even if you weren’t the Chosen One we’d still be there fighting him! Because he’s ruined too many lives, because we cant let him do it anymore. We’re with you, Harry, whether you like it or not.”

Harry stared at her, a lump rising in her throat. He looked down again. “I know,” he whispered. “It’s just hard. Especially when people think…what Smith said…”

“Zacharias Smith is a pathetic little prat, Harry. We knew that last year. Don’t listen to him. You put up with people thinking you were crazy last year…come on, you can get through this.”

“This is different!” Harry said angrily. “At least when they all thought I was mad last year they wouldn’t blame me if someone died. More and more people are dying every week, Ginny. They’re going to think its my fault, they’re going to blame it on me…”

“Then I will hex them into oblivion,” said Ginny calmly. “You’ve got through worse than this, Harry. You’re strong.”

Harry shook his head miserably. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Gin.”

Ginny looked at him silently for a moment, and then put her arms around him gently.

“Then we’ll be there to pick you up whenever you need us to, Harry,” she whispered.

Harry nodded, too choked to speak, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, resting his head on her shoulder. They remained like that for a few minutes, until Ginny broke away.

“Come on, Harry, we better get back to the castle. If you miss any lessons McGonagall will kill you - Chosen One or not,” she said cheerfully.

Harry got to his feet reluctantly. For some strange reason, part of him wanted to stay like that forever; to stay away from everyone else, away from the whispers and the rumours…and wrapped in Ginny’s embrace, sensing nothing but the feel of her body and the scent of her hair.

 

Harry raised his hand and knocked quickly on the door to Dumbledore’s office later that evening. He had been looking forward to speaking to Dumbledore all day. Much to Hermione’s dismay, Harry hadn’t gone to any of his lessons that day; he didn’t think he could face the stares and questions, and spent the day hiding in the boys’ dormitories. Ron ran up in a panic a few hours previously, saying that Professor McGonagall was looking for Harry and wanted to speak to him about his lack of attendance that day. Harry was forced to dive under his bed whilst Professor McGonagall checked the dormitory, and told the other boys to inform Harry that she wanted to speak with him. Harry was not looking forward to that.

“Come in,” called Dumbledore from inside, and Harry pushed the door and walked in. He settled himself down at the other end of Dumbledore’s desk and waited for him to speak.

“I understand you have had fairly eventful day, Harry.”

“You could say that, yeah,” Harry muttered. “How did they find out?”

“I cannot say for certain, but it is my guess that it was leaked by Voldemort. Or his Death Eaters, rather.”

“Voldemort? Why would he want everyone to know?”

“Again, it is only a guess, but I presume it would be to make things even harder for you, Harry. You see, Voldemort is very aware of the fact that everyone thinks you are the Chosen One, and I’m sure he’s also aware of the fact that all this added attention is not making you the happiest person in the world. I think he just wanted to add to your unhappiness. It makes it easier for him to invade your mind if you are miserable, Harry, it makes you an easier target.”

Harry frowned. “So you think one of his Death Eaters informed someone at the Ministry then?”

“That is my guess, yes. But you don’t seem to have grasped the strangest factor in this, Harry. Do you remember me telling you that Voldemort never knew the whole prophecy? That that was the reason he acted rashly - because he did not know the rest, about giving you power, and marking you as his equal. He never knew the rest.”

“But he did! The whole prophecy was in the paper, they were talking about what hidden powers I might have, and stuff like that!”

“Exactly, Harry. Which means that Voldemort now knows the whole prophecy.”

“But…but how?”

“Can you not think how, Harry? Have you been having dreams about the prophecy? Visions, flashbacks?”

“I…yeah,” said Harry, cottoning on finally, with a heavy feeling in his heart.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, it is my view that he has found out through his all-too regular excursions in your mind. Particularly strong visions and dreams you have are easiest for him to see, which is dangerous, as it is likely that any strong dreams you have will be important. We must take action against this.”

Harry nodded slowly. Dumbledore looked at him silently for a while and then spoke, his voice softer this time. 

“How are holding up, Harry?”

“Fine,” Harry said automatically.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows sceptically. “No-one expects you to be fine with everything that is happening right now, Harry. I understand you didn’t go to any of your classes today.”

Harry said nothing, but when Dumbledore didn’t speak he looked up. “I just didn’t want to deal with it, alright?” he said angrily.

“Deal with what?”

“All the stares, and the questions, and the accusations…you weren’t there at breakfast, you didn’t see what they were like, what they were saying…”

“Professor McGonagall has informed me of the events at breakfast, Harry. Including Mr Smith’s comments.”

“Yeah, well…how much more of that am I going to have to take? When the next people die, am I going to be faced with angry relatives, blaming it on me? The whole world thinks I shouldn’t be at school, I should be out trying to find him, they don’t realise…they don’t understand!”

“Of course they don’t, Harry,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I don’t think anyone can truly understand what this is like for you, even those to whom you are closest to. While we’re on the subject, have you confided in your friends?”

“I told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy, yeah.”

“And have you spoken to them about today’s events?”

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore sighed again.

“I think it’s important for you to be able to talk to your friends about how you are feeling, Harry. Talking about it will relieve your burden slightly…it will not only be your problem then.”

“I talked to Ginny about it,” Harry said quietly. “I dunno why I talked to her and not Ron and Hermione. I think it’s because she understands some things that Ron and Hermione just cant…I think because of the stuff with Tom Riddle in the second year - she knows what it‘s like…what he‘s like.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And what did Miss Weasley say?”

“She pretty much told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. That I have to ignore what everyone else thinks and just carry on. She said…she said that she thinks I can do it.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “And I have to say, I agree with Miss Weasley on every count. Keep your friends close, Harry. It’s important to be able to confide in someone, whether that you choose Miss Granger, Mr Weasley or Miss Ginevra Weasley for that.” His eyes were still twinkling brightly.

“Er…right,” said Harry, feeling slightly awkward. “So…how can I stop Voldemort then? How can I stop him gaining even more information?”

Dumbledore leaned his head to one side and put his fingers together in his familiar pose. “You must close your mind to him, Harry.”

Harry nodded firmly. “Teach me,” he said.

 

 

 


	8. A Harmless Duel?

8 

 

Harry kept his head firmly down the next few days. He knew Professor McGonagall wanted to speak to him, and he had taken to all but running out of Transfiguration lessons as soon as they were dismissed. After their initial shock, Harry’s fellow Gryffindors had rallied round him, offering their support and taking every chance to hex Zacharias Smith, shooting jelly-leg jinxes, stinging hexes, and Harry’s personal favourite, wart charms at him. Harry felt grateful that his friends and associates were being so supportive, although he dreaded to think what might happen if any of their relatives were killed; would they still continue so support him so fervently?

“Let us know if anyone gives you any trouble, Harry”, said Dean cheerfully. “I’m itching to try out that Bat-Bogey hex Ginny taught me”.

“Yeah”, Seamus agreed brightly. “If Zacharias Smith does as much as look at you, we’ll sort him out. I doubt we’d even get detention; McGonagall hates him too”.

Harry tried to smile, but for some reason most of his brain was focussing on what Dean had just said. So, Ginny had taught him her Bat-Bogey hex, had she? Harry had noticed that Dean and Ginny were spending quite a lot of time together in the common room, and Harry had not missed the adoring looks Dean kept giving her. He wasn’t surprised at that; Ginny had always been a popular girl with the boys - with her looks, wit and Quidditch skills, who wouldn’t like her? What he was surprised at was the fact that this bothered him, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. It was probably just because he felt protective of her; he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt. Yes, that was it, he told himself firmly, although he couldn’t get rid of the nagging fact that he knew Dean was a nice guy, he knew Dean wouldn’t hurt Ginny - he knew she wouldn’t need to be protected from him. Trying to push those thoughts from his mind, Harry followed the other two into the common room.

“Hey, Ginny!” said Dean happily as he caught sight of her. “Want a butterbeer?”

“Sure,” she smiled up at him, dumping her school bag on one of the tables. She pulled her hair out from its ponytail and shook her head gently, letting her long red locks tumble over her shoulders. Harry sucked in his breath quickly. When had she gotten so pretty? Why hadn’t he noticed before? And why was he suddenly noticing now? He frowned and turned away, not wanting to watch the two flirting any more. Hermione sidled up to him, her eyebrows raised slightly and a faint smile on her lips.

“What are you looking so angry about, Harry?”

“Nothing” Harry said shortly. “Just…not looking forward to seeing Snape next lesson, that’s all”.

“Okay” Hermione replied, still smirking annoyingly. “Dean looks like he’s having fun, doesn’t he? I think he really likes Ginny”, she continued when Harry didn’t reply. “I’m not sure how much she likes him, though”, she finished, looking intently at Harry.

“Right. Well…we better get going now…Snape will kill me if I’m late” Harry said hurriedly, snatching up his bag and walking out of the common room. Hermione and Ron caught him up a few minutes later.

“What’s the big deal, Harry?” panted Ron. “It’s only Defence Against the Dark Arts, its not Quidditch!”

“I should think it’s of even more importance than Quidditch, Ron! Harry’s not going to defeat V-V-Voldemort by catching the snitch, is he? He’s going to need all the Defence lessons there are!” snapped Hermione.

“My thoughts exactly, Miss Granger”.

The three turned quickly to see Professor McGonagall standing behind them, her arms folded. “Potter, can I have a word?”

“Erm…I’ve got a lesson, Professor” he said desperately, showing her his books.

“It wont take long. You cannot avoid me forever, Potter”.

“We’ll see you there, Harry” said Hermione, tugging on Ron’s sleeve and pulling him away.

When they had gone Professor McGonagall surveyed Harry critically. “Well?”

“Er…well what, Professor?”

“Why did you miss a whole day’s worth of lessons the other day, Potter?”

“I…er…I didn’t feel well” said Harry quickly, looking at the floor.

“Then why didn’t you go to the hospital wing?”

“Erm…I…I didn’t think it was that bad, Professor”. 

“But it was bad enough to miss all of your classes?”

“Er…yeah” Harry managed.

McGonagall pursed her lips. “Potter, I understand that this is probably not the easiest time for you but, Chosen One or not,” - she paused and Harry winced - “I’m afraid your classes are still compulsory.”

Harry nodded his head, still not meeting her eye. “Yeah, I know Professor. It wont happen again”.

“I should hope not. But Potter…”, she hesitated suddenly and studied him. “I also would like you to know that you are not alone in this. If you are troubled by anything, or need someone…older…to talk to…well, we are here. You could be an exceptional wizard if you would only apply yourself a bit more. Keep your chin up, though, Potter. I, for one, have faith in you”.

Harry looked back up at her in surprise, and then smiled faintly. “Thanks, Professor”.

“Yes. Well…off you go to class now. And try not to get into trouble”, Professor McGonagall said, although not severely, as she turned in the opposite direction and walked down the corridor. Harry turned too, and hurried down the hall to the classroom, hoping he wasn’t too late. He paused outside, trying to see if he could hear Snape’s voice, before pushing it open gingerly and stepping inside. The class had clearly started, with Snape standing in front of his desk, his mouth slightly open as if he had suddenly stopped in the middle of speaking. His mouth twisted into a sneer as he saw Harry.

“Late again, Mr Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor .”

Harry said nothing and walked towards the nearest spare seat, which was next to Neville, and opposite Ron and Hermione. Ron caught his eye and pulled a face in Snape’s direction.

“Now that you have decided to grace us with your presence, Potter, perhaps I can continue with what I was saying” Snape sneered.

Harry tried to stare blankly at him, not willing to rise to the bait.

“Now, I think it’s important to find out what level this class is on with regards to duelling. How would you all fare if you were forced to duel with a follower of the Dark Lord? Let’s have two volunteers to demonstrate…Draco? Would you be so kind?” 

Malfoy smirked and sauntered casually up to the front of the class, spinning his wand between his fingers. Snape nodded at him, before turning back to the rest of the class. “And who else? No volunteers? Well then, Draco…let’s see how you fare against…”

Harry closed his eyes, knowing what was coming.

“…The Chosen One”, Snape finished silkily.

Harry remained seated, trying to ignore the rest of the class turning in their seats to look at him.

“Potter,” Snape spat. “I’ve asked you to come to the front of the class”.

Harry tried to seem surprised. “Really, Professor? I don’t remember hearing my name.”

Snape’s eyes flashed. “You knew exactly whom I was referring to…it was probably you yourself who coined that ridiculous name in the first place”.

Harry stood up suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He knew Snape and Malfoy weren’t aware of how far he’d progressed at duelling, thanks to his intense training over the summer, and he was looking forward in showing them both.

“Harry, don’t do anything stupid, okay? Stay calm!“ Hermione whispered anxiously as he walked past, but he ignored her, stopping opposite Malfoy and drawing his wand.

Snape nodded his approval mockingly. “Bow”, he commanded gently.

Malfoy and Harry inclined their heads about a half an inch.

“The object of this duel is to _disarm_ …minor jinxes may be used, but nothing that will cause serious damage. Begin.”

Malfoy and Harry circled each other, their eyes narrowed. The class was silent, staring at the two of them, transfixed. With the exception of Ron and Hermione, no-one was aware of just how good Harry was, and to them the two boys seemed fairly well matched; Malfoy was also known to be good at duelling.

“Expelliarmus!” Malfoy shouted, but Harry dodged it easily, keeping his own wand fixed on his opponent. 

“Densaugeo!” Harry bellowed, using the same jinx that Malfoy used on Hermione a few years previously. Malfoy dodged, but not fast enough, and the jinx hit him right in his face.

“Nice one Harry”, Ron laughed, as Malfoy’s front teeth began to grow alarmingly fast. 

Snape pointed his wand at Malfoy and muttered something, and Malfoy’s teeth quickly shrank back to their usual size. Harry shook his head as Snape’s involvement as he easily dodged the Jelly-Legs jinx Malfoy shot at him, shooting a disarming jinx back in return. Malfoy ducked out of the way, and quickly shot a stinging hex at Harry. Harry brought up his shield at once, causing the jinx to rebound onto Malfoy. Malfoy hissed in pain, and Harry took the opportunity to disarm him, his wand sailing into Harry’s outstretched hand. A cheer went up from the Gryffindors, and the rest of the class - apart from the Slytherins - clapped appreciatively. Harry smiled in spite of himself and turned towards his chair, dropping Malfoy’s wand onto Snape’s desk.

“Harry!” Neville suddenly shouted, and Harry spun around in time to see Malfoy snatch up his wand and point it at him, a sneer on his face.

“Cru-”

“Petrificus Totalus!” Harry bellowed, and before the rest of the curse had left Malfoy’s mouth he was flat on his back, stiff as a board. There was a loud silence, until - 

“Another 10 points from Gryffindor, Potter“, Snape said quietly, flicking his wand at Malfoy and disabling the body-bind charm. “I asked you to disarm your opponent, not to fire another jinx at them once you have done so”.

Harry opened his mouth to protest at the utter unfairness of this, but Hermione got there first. 

“Professor, Harry only used that spell in self-defensive! From the sound of things, Malfoy was about to use an unforgivable, and that - “

“A further 10 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Despite being taught by myself for over 5 years, you have still failed to understand that I do not accept talking out of turn in my classes”. 

Hermione turned pink, but was about to open her mouth again until Harry shot her a warning look.

“Don’t, he’ll only take more points”, he muttered, sitting down heavily in his seat. Malfoy sank back at his desk too, looking furious but still amused at Snape’s point taking.

“Nice work, Harry! Didn’t take long for you to finish him off, did it?” Neville whispered excitedly. Harry couldn’t help smiling at Neville’s enthusiasm.

“Ah, Potter, you look very pleased with yourself. How similar to your father you are. If my memory is right, he seemed to be unable to fight a duel fairly, too”.

Harry gritted his teeth, but held his temper. He’d been hearing Snape’s taunts about his father for years now.

“Yes, it is extraordinary how similar you are. Your father seemed to think that a tiny amount of sporting talent was a just excuse for his insufferable arrogance, and now, it seems, so do you“. 

Harry heard some of the other students gasp slightly at this unacceptable insult, and he felt his hands clench into fists, and he willed himself to think of something else. He thought of hitting Snape around the head with a bludger bat, but still was unable to fully tune out his words.

“It seems that it’s not just in appearance that you are identical to your father, Potter. He was nothing but a conceited, pathetic thug…and so are you”.

Harry had had enough. He stood up quickly, his chair falling to the floor with a clatter.

“Shut up” he said quietly, white pricks of rage obscuring his vision. 

“ _What did you say to me, Potter_?” Snape hissed dangerously.

“YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY DAD! IT‘S YOU WHO IS THE PATHETIC ONE! Listen to yourself - you’re so twisted and bitter you can’t even let go of the resentment you had for a man who’s been dead for 15 years!”

The class was utterly silent; even Malfoy looked wary. Snape’s eyes glittered.

“Oh no, Potter. It wasn’t resentment I harboured for your father. It was _hatred_ ”. He spat the word, leaning forward towards Harry.

“Yeah, well I’m sure the feeling was mutual” Harry retorted, glowering at Snape and breathing heavily. There was a pause while they both glared at each other, and then Snape leant back against his desk.

“Well Potter, seeing as you are so anxious to prove yourself…I’m sure you’re wont object to one more duel.”

“Fine” Harry spat. “Against who?”

Snape raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Against me”.

The whisper ran though the class, and Harry heard Seamus mutter “He’s mad!”.

Harry was confident, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that however good he was at duelling, it was unlikely that he’s be able to beat Snape; he had much more age and experience on his side. But Harry would be damned if he would back down. If he’d managed to duel with Death Eaters then he could manage a respectable enough performance against Snape.

“Fine” he said shortly, walking stiffly to the front of the class, shrugging off Hermione’s arm.

“Harry, don’t be so stupid! This is what he wants, he wants - “

She was silenced at the look on his face and sat back, darting a worried glance at Ron, who was staring at Harry and Snape with his mouth slightly open

.

Harry took his place opposite Snape, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. He knew that he was going to need to keep his shield up at most times whilst continuingly shooting jinxes, and for that he needed to use wandless magic; something he could only do when concentrating hard. Snape inclined his head in a mocking bow, before quickly shooting a blasting hex at Harry.

“Protego!” Harry shouted quickly, concentrating hard and bringing up a strong shield, deflecting the jinx back to Snape, who dodged it.

“Furnunculus!” he added quickly, shooting the boil inducing hex at Snape, who raised his own shield, causing Harry to duck this time.

“Expelliarmus!” Snape spat, swiftly shooting the disarming spell at Harry, who in his surprise let his shield falter. He ducked quickly, forcing himself to ignore Snape’s taunts.

“Yes, not so easy when you fight fair, is it Potter? Your father always avoided fair fights - he was such a coward that he would never fight unless it was four to one. Still, he got his comeuppance, didn’t he?” Snape sneered.

Harry saw red. “Diffindo!” he bellowed, forcing Snape to drop to the ground to avoid the severing curse. He got up quickly, his eyes glittering malevolently.

“You dare use a cutting curse against me, Potter? Such arrogance…your father would be proud”.

Harry knew Snape was trying to provoke him into losing his concentration, but it was having the opposite effect; Harry was focussed entirely on the duel. Snape suddenly seemed to go into a rage, shooting spell after spell at Harry, who was forced to keep his shield up, and was unable to shoot his own jinx. Harry caught a glimpse of Blaise Zabini running out of the class, but ignored him. He knew what he had to. Dropping his shield, Harry quickly ducked Snape’s jinx and pointed his wand at him.

“Impedimenta!” he bellowed, but Snape deflected the curse back at Harry. 

Summoning all his power, Harry shot a stinging hex at Snape from his wand while simultaneously bringing his left arm up across his body and bringing up his shield.

He heard the class gasp at his use of wandless magic, and a flicker of surprise crossed Snape’s face, before it was replaced with the usual sneer.

“Very good, Potter” he said, lazily deflecting Harry’s hex. “Too bad you didn’t bother to learn this last year - perhaps then you might have been able to save your precious dog”.

Rage filled Harry instantly; how dare Snape even utter Sirius’s name?

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT SIRIUS!” he shouted, his throat tearing. “DON’T YOU DARE!”. He shot a stunning spell at Snape, quickly following it up with two more. “Stupefy! Stupefy!“ 

Snape’s shield deflected the first two but such was the strength of Harry’s anger that the third jinx passed straight through, knocking Snape off his feet and slamming him hard against the wall. He slid down slowly, crumpling at the bottom, unconscious.

The room filled with a loud silence, punctured only by Harry’s ragged breathing.

“…mate…” he heard Ron manage weakly.

“Oh Harry, you attacked a teacher!” came Hermione’s appalled whisper.

“You’re in huge trouble now, Potter! Even the Chosen One will have to expelled for this!” gloated Malfoy.

Harry said nothing, still too angry, and trying to calm his breathing.

The classroom door burst open suddenly and Zabini ran back in, closely followed by Professor Dumbledore. He paused in the doorway, taking in the unconscious Snape on the floor and Harry standing opposite him, his wand still raised and his face flushed and sweaty. Dumbledore hurried over to Snape and muttered “Enervate”, waving his wand. The class pressed forward, eager for a better view.

Snape sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the wall.

“Severus, are you hurt?”

“No”, Snape said, getting to his feet, his eyes darkening as they rested on Harry.

“Harry, are you hurt?” Dumbledore continued, but before Harry could reply Snape spoke again.

“Headmaster, are you aware of the fact that it was Potter himself who knocked me unconscious, whilst we were attempting a harmless duel? He did the same thing to Mr Malfoy when they duelled; after successfully disarming him he found it necessary to perform a full body-bind on him.”

“Yes, thank you Severus. I was informed by Mr Zabini of what was going on. Are you quite certain you don’t need to go to the hospital wing?”

“Yes, I’m fine” Snape snapped. “Headmaster, I’m sure you are aware that attacking a teacher is not only exceedingly dangerous, but also shows a complete disregard for authority. I’m sure I’m right in saying that such actions usually result in immediate expulsion”.

“I am quite aware of the punishment system at Hogwarts, Severus“ Dumbledore said sharply.

“Then surely you will - “

“Yes Severus, I will deal with Harry in the appropriate way. If you are sure you are not hurt then please continue the lesson”. 

Dumbledore turned to look at Harry, his face stern and his eyes lacking their usual twinkle. 

“Follow me, Harry” he said gravely, turning and walking briskly out of the classroom. Harry turned with his heart sinking, desperately trying to ignore the horrified looks of his classmates, and followed Dumbledore out of the class.

 

 

 

PLEASE REVIEW :)

 


	9. Lost Trust

**9**

 

Harry followed Dumbledore through the corridor and up the various flights of stairs that led to his office, his heart sinking more and more with every step. Dumbledore had said nothing; he hadn’t even looked at Harry since they left the class. Although Harry was certainly worried about what his punishment would be, his anger was still leading his emotions; perhaps he had been rude to Snape, but he had done nothing wrong. It was Snape who constantly insulted Harry, his dead parents, his dead godfather…it was Snape who made him duel…it was Snape who incited his anger with his cleverly directed comments about Harry’s dad and Sirius. Harry knew one thing; there was absolutely no way he would apologise. He would rather go back to the Dursleys than say he was sorry to Severus Snape.

“Inside please, Harry” said Dumbledore heavily, holding the door to his office open and avoiding Harry’s eyes. Harry walked in stiffly, but held his head high. He sat down on the chair he always took and waited. Dumbledore sank down onto his chair, taking off his half-moon glasses and beginning to polish them on his midnight-blue robes. He suddenly looked very old, very frail, and very tired. Harry stared determinedly at his feet, waiting for the older man to speak. He did not have to wait long:

“That was entirely inexcusable, Harry. Whatever the circumstances, it is always completely unacceptable to attack a teacher”.

“I didn’t attack him!” Harry burst out angrily, glaring at Dumbledore, all worries momentarily forgotten.

“Indeed? Are you implying that Professor Snape stunned himself?”

Harry had never been able to abide the sarcastic way that teachers often told off students. He didn’t think that Dumbledore would ever do it, and the fact that he just had made him angrier still. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”, he said, trying to control his voice and not shout. “He made me duel Malfoy, I won, and then stopped Malfoy trying to curse me behind my back. He then started insulting my family before making me duel with him, and then complains because he lost! What exactly have I done wrong?”

“He made you duel him, did he? Did he force you to? Did he threaten you with a detention if you did not follow his instructions?”

“No”, Harry admitted sullenly.

“Then he did not make you duel with his, as you claim. You had a choice, Harry”.

“I had no choice whatsoever! He would never let me forget it if I didn’t agree, he’d go on about me being as much of a coward as my dad was, he’d never let me live it down! What would you have done if you were me? Sit there and take it? Let him think you’re a coward?”

“There are worse things in life than a teacher’s bad opinion of you, Harry” Dumbledore stated calmly. “What does it matter what he thinks of you?”

“What does it…he…you don’t understand!” Harry spluttered, now furious that Dumbledore thought that this was his fault.

“Don’t I?”

“NO! You think you do…you always think you do…but you don’t! You NEVER do! YOU’VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD!”. Harry was suddenly on his feet with no recollection of having stood up. He glared down at Dumbledore, mutinous. 

“Harry, sit down” sat Dumbledore tiredly. “This is neither the time nor the place -”

“Oh it’s never the time or the place, is it?” Harry snarled irrationally. “It’s never the right time to address your little problem, is it? You just pretend its not there!”

“And what ‘little problem’ might you be referring to, Harry” asked Dumbledore, still annoyingly calm.

“Um…how about the fact that Snape isn’t actually working for you…he’s still a Death Eater…he’s working for Voldemort and you know it!”

Dumbledore stood up and spoke sharply. “We have spoken of this far too many times already Harry, and my patience has thoroughly left me. Severus is not a Death Eater, he is loyal to the Order and only to the Order.”

Harry snorted to show his indignation and turned his back, glaring at the walls and rubbing his knuckles. He didn’t particularly want a repeat of what had happened in Dumbledore’s office after Sirius’s death, yet he was angry and hurt at Dumbledore’s refusal to accept that Snape was the one in the wrong.

“If this had been any other student, their immediate dismissal from Hogwarts would have been a possible outcome. However, you know as well as I do that for you, this is not even an option. For you to leave the safety of this castle as unprepared as you are would mean certain death. You will therefore serve detention every night this week.”

“Fine” Harry snapped. The he whirled around to face Dumbledore again. “And what about Snape? What’s his punishment going to be? Or do you think what he said to me is acceptable too?”

“What did he say to you, Harry?”

“He…he insulted Lupin…and my dad…and Sirius. He said my dad was a bully, an arrogant thug, and so was I…he said he was a coward and he deserved what he got…he said…he said…” - Harry’s voice cracked - “he said it was my fault he died. Sirius”.

Dumbledore inhaled quietly. “No. I do not think he would say that, Harry.”

“HE DID! When we were duelling…he said if I’d bothered to learn all this before then maybe…maybe my DOG wouldn’t be dead!” 

Dumbledore sat heavily back down into his seat. “I will speak to Professor Snape about that, Harry. It was indeed unacceptable, and I understand why it hurt you, why you got angry. But Harry, you used the severing curse against him…yes, I know you did. You stunned him. I fear he will refuse to teach you unless you apologise -”

“I’m not apologising!” said Harry loudly. “I’m not sorry I did it, I’m glad I did. I’d do it again if I had the chance! I don’t care if he doesn’t teach me again, I‘ll go to the library and teach myself.”

“That is not the right attitude to have, Harry! His refusal to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts is not my main concern; I daresay your lessons from Kingsley and Tonks will suffice. It is your Occlumency lessons that I am concerned about. I do not think he will teach you -”

“Fine! I don’t care!” Harry growled, amazed Dumbledore could be so thick.

“It is not fine, Harry!” Dumbledore snapped, raising his voice for the first time. “This is not just about you! If you do not learn Occlumency it is not just you who will suffer! Think what happened with Mr Weasley in your dormitory when you had that dream! Think what damage you could do without knowing! You MUST learn Occlumency again - and Professor Snape must have a hand in that, even if he is not your main teacher”.

Harry said nothing. He knew Dumbledore was right, but somehow that made him even angrier. He breathed hard through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Harry, I am not asking that you like Professor Snape. I am merely asking that you trust -”

“I don’t trust him! I cant trust him…ever! He hates me too much to be on your side…you don’t see the way he looks at me…he knows Voldemort wants to kill me, so why on earth would he try and stop him? He hates me more than he hated my dad, more than he hated Sirius…how can I trust someone who hates me that much? Who I hate back the same amount?”

“You must try, Harry!”

“I cant!”

“I trust Professor Snape. If you trust me, Harry, then you should -”

“WELL MAYBE I DON’T! MAYBE I DON’T TRUST YOU ANYMORE! MAYBE I LOST MY TRUST A VERY LONG TIME AGO! Once trust is lost it’s very hard to regain, Professor! And you’ve been wrong before, haven’t you, sir? HAVENT YOU?”, he roared when Dumbledore did not answer. Dumbledore looked as though Harry had slapped him, and many of the portraits gasped loudly at his rudeness, some shaking their heads and tutting. 

“I’ve never been able to understand why you held this boy in such high regard, Dumbledore”, Phineas Nigellus smirked from inside his frame.

“You shut up!” Harry snarled at him. And then, quite suddenly, all the fight went out of him. His shoulders sagged visibly; his heart thumped painfully, and he was left feeling ashamed, frightened and alone. He wasn’t really that angry with Dumbledore; he just seemed to be the person that Harry took it out on. Someone had to bear the brunt of his anger, and Harry felt sorry that it always seemed to be Dumbledore. He dropped back slowly onto his seat and buried his head in his hand. There was a complete silence in the office - even the portraits had stopped whispering amongst themselves.

“Professor, I -” Harry began, but his voice was muffled against his hands. He looked up slightly, his brow creased as if looking at his Headmaster caused him physical pain. “I…I’m sorry sir”, he said hollowly, looking up at Dumbledore. Dumbledore said nothing. If Harry thought this was because Dumbledore was angry with him, he was quite mistaken. The look in Harry’s eyes had caused Dumbledore’s heart to ache, and once again he cursed himself for making a foolish old man’s mistakes. The look of pain, of suffering, of complete and utter hopelessness that was etched in every line of Harry’s face made his throat tighten painfully.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean that, sir. What I said about not trusting you. I do trust you. It’s just…sometimes I…” Harry shook his head in frustration about not being able to communicate how he felt, at not being able to justify his actions.

Dumbledore raised a hand as Harry attempted to speak again. “There’s no need to explain, Harry. I understand what you are saying”.

“No, Professor. I was out of order…I didn’t mean…”

“I know, Harry. I know. And I quite accept your apology. And now you must accept mine”.

Harry looked up blankly. “Sir?”

“Yes, another old man’s mistake…I fear I have forgotten that there are some hates that go too deep, some wounds that never really fade. Some people are not able to put their past behind them, Harry. And I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“Are you talking about Snape, sir?”

“Professor Snape, Harry. And yes, I am. You are aware, of course, of the animosity that your father and Sirius shared with Professor Snape whilst they were at this school. I rather thought…hoped…that he would be able to forget about your relations after a certain while…especially after the events of recent years. But as I said, some hurts go too deep, and will never go away. Old habits die hard, Harry. But no matter”.

“Sir…if you want…if you don’t think he’ll teach me Occlumency otherwise…I will apologise to him. Not because I’m sorry”, he continued hurriedly, “because I’m not. But because I want this over with. I want stop all the dreams. They’re…they’re changing me. Slowly, but they are. I can feel it. I don’t want to keep losing it with everyone, I don’t want everyone to feel they have to tip-toe around me all the time. But however hard I try, Professor, I cant always keep it together. And I do try, I really do.”

“I know you do, Harry. I cant imagine how trying this must be for you. Sometimes I forget how truly young you are. You are stronger than you know. Your parents were both extraordinarily strong people…incredibly brave. And you are stronger than the two of them, Harry. You really are. One day you will see that”. Dumbledore smiled faintly at Harry. “And I am very pleased you can find it in yourself to apologise to Professor Snape”.

“Professor, I do have one condition, though” Harry said quickly.

“And what’s that?” asked Dumbledore warily.

“If I apologise to him…I don’t want to hear him say anything else about my dad, or Sirius, or Remus…or anyone. Ever again. If I apologise I don’t want him to talk to me at all”.

“Well, I am sure that is a feat Professor Snape will manage to perform admirably” Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling again.

“D’you think he will agree to teach me again, sir?”

“He will teach you again, Harry. His comments were out of line too and I will speak to him about that. He will most certainly teach you again. Now, you should probably return your common room…I’m sure your friends are most anxious to hear what has happened,” said Dumbledore with a smile. “But remember, Harry, what you did was very wrong and you will still serve detention with Professor McGonagall”.

“Yeah, I know, sir. Sir, d’you think I can apologise to Snape in a letter?”

“Professor Snape, Harry”

“Yes, sir. D’you think I can, then?”

“Yes, I think that is probably the best idea. Now then, off you go. I shall send a note tomorrow telling you when your next Occlumency lesson is scheduled; it will probably be on the weekend, what with your detentions filling up most of your evenings“. Dumbledore was trying to look stern, but there was a faint smile on his face. Off you go, Harry“

“Bye sir. And…sorry again” Harry said, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and hurrying out of the office.

 

 

When Harry stepped through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room, he was immediately swamped by people eager to hear the full story. The people who had actually been in the class at that time seemed to have spread the story far and wide already. 

“Harry, is it true you knocked Snape out?” asked Colin Creevey excitedly.

“Harry, that was wicked!” exclaimed Dean. “But what did Dumbledore say?”

“Are you in loads of trouble, Harry?” asked Hermione anxiously, hurrying towards him, followed by Ron. “Oh, why did you do it? I cant believe it…”

“Lay off him, Hermione, Snape was asking for it. You heard what he was saying to Harry” Ron chimed in. “What did Dumbledore say, then?

“Erm…”

“Oh Harry you’re not expelled are you? Snape said…but Dumbledore wouldn’t have…would he?” The look on Hermione’s face was one of pure terror.

“No! I’ve just got detention for a week”.

“Is that all?” asked Ron incredulously. “Mate, Dumbledore loves you! If that had been anyone else…blimey. You had a lucky escape there!”

“Yeah, I know” Harry nodded. “Mind you, I’m still not sorry. He deserved what he got”.

“Exactly, Harry” said Seamus. “I should think a years worth of detentions would be worth knocking out Snape…ah, did you see his face when Dumbledore woke him…classic. I’m never going to forget that, never”.

Harry couldn’t help smiling at everyone’s amazement. Ginny walked up to him and touched his arm lightly. “Nice one, Harry. It’s about time someone gave Snape what he deserves. Good on you”. She smiled and walked over to a chair, where she was quickly joined by Dean. Harry averted his eyes.

 

The next day Harry couldn’t through a single corridor without a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or fellow Gryffindor congratulating him. The Slytherins contented themselves with hissing at him or shooting him dirty look, but Harry didn’t care - he was used to that. The news had spread throughout the school, with the facts becoming more and more exaggerated as the day went on. Harry couldn’t help laughing when a third year Hufflepuff stopped in at lunch and asked him if it was true that he’d turned Snape into a bug and spent the rest of the lesson trying to stamp on him.

“No, regrettably I didn’t” Harry said, “but thanks for the idea, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Harry!” said Hermione reproachfully. “You shouldn’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” asked Harry. “It IS a good idea!”

“Yes, maybe, but these things might get back to him…have you thought about what the next Defence lesson is going to be like? I’m dreading to think what Snape might do!”

Harry said nothing, privately agreeing. The next lesson with Snape was the following day, and Harry wasn’t looking forward to it. However, he needn’t have worried; when the lesson arrived, Snape simply acted like Harry didn’t exist. He didn’t speak to him, he didn’t check he had handed his work in, he didn’t even look at him…apart from at the very end of class where he shot Harry a repulsed look, which Harry ignored.

The thing he was most worried about was his approaching Occlumency lesson with Snape. Although he knew Dumbledore and Lupin would be there, he was not exactly savouring the thought of interacting with Snape, of letting Snape into his most private thoughts. He hoped he would be able to push him out quickly this time; although Dumbledore’s teaching had been excellent, and Harry found that he could close his mind to his Headmaster relatively quickly, he wasn’t sure if Dumbledore was using all his strength. He knew Snape would show no mercy, and vowed work particularly hard at his lesson on Saturday. He was not going to let Severus Snape into his mind again…not if he could help it.

 


	10. Snape's little Secret

  
****

10

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****

Dean Thomas wound his arm around Ginny Weasley’s waist and smiled down at her, his eyes looking dazed. The two were sat snuggled in a chair in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, and seemed oblivious to the presence of the all other students. Dean reached out hand and gently brushed a piece of Ginny’s hair off her face. Harry scowled. Dean was really annoying him lately, although he wasn’t sure why. He tugged his eyes away but couldn’t help them sliding back a few moments later. They were giggling about something comfortably, and Dean kissed Ginny lightly on the forehead, stroking her hair all the while. Harry’s scowl deepened; his eyebrows were so furrowed over that it was miracle he could see.

“Something bothering you, Harry?” asked Hermione in a voice that was too casual to be natural.

“No” Harry replied abruptly, bending his head over his Charms Essay.

“Well, something’s bothering me!” said Ron grumpily.

“And what’s that, Ron?” Hermione asked patiently.

“Ginny!”

“What about her?” Harry asked quickly, looking back up.

“Well, it’s her and Dean, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. “The way they’re acting…you probably haven’t noticed, Harry…” - Hermione smirked at this - “but they’re all over each other! It’s disgusting! I shouldn’t have to look at that! She‘s my little sister! I wouldn’t have minded so much if he‘d bothered to ask for my permission!”

“Your permission?” scoffed Hermione. “I’d like to see you try and give Ginny permission for anything! She’s your sister, not your daughter; and even if she was your daughter she’s old enough to act for herself, you know”.

Ron shook his head stubbornly. “Nah, he still should have asked. It’s just courtesy…if you’re going to go after your mate’s little sister you should at least have the decency to ask!”

“Don’t make it sound so sordid…Dean didn’t ‘go after’ Ginny, Ron! He’s liked her for ages!”

“Yeah, well…that just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

“How on earth does that make it worse, Ronald Weasley?”

“…Because…”, Ron said slowly, as if he was talking to a three year old, “if he’s liked her for ages he’s going to really want her, isn’t he…you know what I mean. His patience will have run out…he’s going to want…well, you know…”

“You’re pathetic, Ron! You just don’t like the fact that Ginny has a boyfriend, regardless of it being Dean! She’s not seven, you know! She‘s fifteen!”

“Exactly” said Ron firmly, as if that proved his point. “She’s much too young to be thinking about boys”.

Hermione looked at Ron in disbelief, but then returned to her parchment.

“So, er…they’re definitely going out then?” asked Harry quietly. “They’re not just...you know…seeing each other?”

“Nah, they’re an official item…or they bloody well better be if they’re going be acting like that!” he said, his eyes darkening. Harry turned to look too and felt an icy jolt run through his stomach. Dean and Ginny were wound tightly around each other, kissing deeply. Harry felt his hands curl into fists.

“Oi!” Ron shouted. “I shouldn’t have to watch my little sister getting off with my mate!”

Dean and Ginny broke apart, both blushing slightly.

“Get a room, why don’t you?” Ron spat. Then he stood up suddenly, as the meaning of his words hit him. “Actually, don’t you DARE get a room! If you two disappear somewhere I’m sending an owl straight to mum. No, actually, straight to dad!”

Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Listen, Ronald, I appreciate the fact that this may be awkward for you, so yes, we will make sure that you don’t see it again. BUT we will ‘disappear’ whenever we want to, thank you very much. You better get used to that.”

“You’d better not!” spluttered Ron. “You’re far too young for this!”

“I’m fifteen!”

“Yes! Far too young! Everyone agrees with me!”

“Really? Let‘s see…” said Ginny scathingly. “Hermione, who do you agree with?”

“Ron already know my opinion on this, Ginny” Hermione said heavily. “I’m totally on your side. Sorry, Ron”.

“Harry?” asked Ginny, turning him. “Who do you agree with?”

“Erm…” Harry faltered, torn between wanting to please Ginny, and wanting to side with his best friend. “Well…”

Dean suddenly came up behind Ginny and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“I agree with Ron” Harry suddenly said, quite loudly. He didn’t know why, but he felt himself glaring at Ginny and Dean. Ginny flushed. Saying nothing, she tightened her grip on Dean’s hand and marched towards the portrait hole. The two of them climbed quickly though it and disappeared. There was a short silence, and then - 

“Twat” said Ron venomously, looking the spot where they had stood.

“Yep” Harry agreed quietly, bending his head over his essay and carefully avoiding Hermione’s eye.

 

 

“Come in, Harry”, called Dumbledore from inside his office. Harry pushed open the door and walked in, his stomach churning nervously. Dumbledore was sat at his desk, Snape sitting next to him on a wooden chair, deliberately looking the other way.

“Harry!”

Harry turned around and saw Remus Lupin hurrying though the door, smiling broadly although he did, as always, look tired. “I was worried I would be late…but it looks like you’ve just arrived too, Harry”. They shook hands warmly.

“Time-keeping has never been one of Potter’s strong points” said Snape lazily.

“Severus…” said Dumbledore quietly, and Harry knew he must have spoken to Snape before he arrived about not provoking him.

“Good to see you, Albus” continued Lupin, as if Snape hadn’t spoken. “Severus”.

“Remus” acknowledged Snape, his lip curling slightly.

“Well,” Dumbledore began briskly, “we all know why we’re here, so let us begin. Harry, if you stand there…and Severus, if you stand opposite him there.”

Harry stood where Dumbledore had pointed and waited for Snape to stand opposite him. He walked over slowly, and when he reached his place looked up, his eyes meeting Harry’s. His eyes glittered dangerously and his mouth was twisted in the usual sneer. Harry gritted his teeth and glared straight back. There was a short pause in which Lupin shot a worried look at Dumbledore, which the older man returned.

“Well Severus, Harry…on the count of three. One….two…three”.

“Legilimens!” Snape hissed quickly, his black eyes boring into Harry’s. Harry quickly tried to raise his ‘wall’, to push Snape’s force back, but he could feel Snape pushing forward strongly. Beads of sweat broke out on both of their foreheads as they carried on their silent, unmoving battle. And then, suddenly, Harry’s wall crumbled and the visions began…he was seven, and Dudley was chasing him around the house, trying to hit him with the remote control…he was eleven, and Quirrell was turning around to reveal the monstrosity on the back of his head….he was fourteen, and standing motionless whilst Cedric Diggory was blasted off his feet by Voldemort…he was fifteen, and watching in horror as Sirius fell, as though in slow motion, through the veil, his mouth in an ’o’ of surprise…

“No!” Harry panted, giving one final push, and staggering against Dumbledore’s desk. Remus put a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Severus?” asked Dumbledore inquiringly.

“Potter barely seems to have improved” Snape said silkily. “He managed to push me away eventually using only his mind - a feat he never managed to come close to last year - but he allowed me unlimited access into memories he dreads the most. I fear the Dark Lord will find it very easy to penetrate Potter’s defences”.

“Do it again” Harry said quickly, standing up straight and wiping his forehead. Snape scowled at him.

“I am your teacher, Potter.”

“Professor” Harry added, putting as much contempt as he could into the three syllables. Snape glared at him for a few moments, and then raised his wand again.

…He was twelve, and staring in horror as the Basilisk slithered towards him…he was thirteen, and hearing his mother scream as a group of Dementors glided towards him…he was sixteen, and feeling rage burn his insides as Dean bent his head to kiss Ginny…

No, Harry told himself firmly, Snape’s not seeing that. He drew all his strength and pushed back with all his might, his heart hammering in his chest. As suddenly as it had entered, Harry felt Snape’s presence leave his mind, and was pleased to see that Snape looked rather hot too.

“Interesting…” said Snape softly. “Does Mr Weasley know of your affection for his sister?”

Harry felt his face redden but said nothing, staring angrily at him, his hands coiling into fists, hating him. 

“Severus, please…” said Dumbledore tiredly. “That is not helping. How was it that time?”

“It was…better,” said Snape grudgingly, “but he still allowed me access for a while into his memories…although these were of less importance than the previous ones…I daresay the Dark Lord has no interest in teenage heartache”.

Harry felt his anger building in his chest. “One more time. Do it again” he commanded sharply. “Sir” he spat, as an afterthought.

Snape raised his wand again and began his descent into Harry’s mind….but Harry was ready. Screwing his eyes up tightly, he pushed back, concentrating, willing himself to get Snape out. He felt Snape’s force begin to slip, but kept pushing…

And then memories that weren’t his flooded his mind…flashing though so quickly he could hardly discern what they were. Concentrating hard, Harry pushed further in, until a memory came in to focus…

…a younger Snape was standing before Voldemort nervously, waiting for him to speak.

“I understand you have the contents of the prophecy, Severus”.

“Yes, my Lord” said Snape, bowing deeply. 

“And what does it say?” the high, cold voice inquired.

“It says, ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, and born as the seventh month dies’. I heard it straight from her mouth, my Lord”.

“How…interesting” Voldemort whispered…..

And then Harry felt a shove in his head, and the memory slipped away, leaving him with nothing but puzzled blankness in his head.

“Well, that looked like you made progress, Harry. What happened?” asked Dumbledore briskly. Harry said nothing, gazing at Snape. His head was reeling. Snape looked back at Harry, his expression unreadable, although his face looked suddenly pale. Did that mean…Snape…?

“It was you” Harry whispered, forcing the words out with huge effort. Snape said nothing, just stared at him, with that odd look upon his face. 

“It was you…” 

“What are you talking about, Harry?” asked Lupin, taking a step forward. 

Harry ignored him. His head was spinning, he had a horrible feeling he was about to vomit, his breath was catching in his throat. He shook his head violently. He felt nothing but blankness, his mind didn’t seem to be working. Dumbledore wouldn’t have let him teach at Hogwarts if he had…but Harry had just seen it. He had seen the proof. And then, suddenly, the rage came - 

“IT WAS YOU! YOU TOLD VOLDEMORT ABOUT THE PROPHECY! IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU MY MUM AND DAD ARE DEAD! IT’S YOUR FAULT! YOU DID IT!”

Every angry thought Harry had ever had about Voldemort had abated, and Snape was now the bearer of all his hatred. He had no memory of having moved, but he suddenly found both him and Snape sprawled across the floor, one of his hands pinning Snape to the ground whilst the other attempted to hit every inch he could reach.

“Harry, no!” Strong hands were tugging him off Snape, pulling him away, and Harry let them, feeling suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes for a few moments, his head still reeling, hearing raised voices and chairs scraping. When he opened them he saw Dumbledore standing next to Snape, talking to him in a low, urgent voice. To Harry’s intense pleasure he saw blood dripping from Snape’s nose onto his collar. Dumbledore raised his wand and the blood vanished, but Harry’s morbid pleasure remained.

“Albus, what happened?” asked Lupin, who still had both arms tight around Harry, restraining him in case he made a sudden lunge again at Snape. “Surely what Harry said…it cant be…”

“Its TRUE!” Harry spat. “I saw it, it was HIM!” He suddenly turned to Dumbledore, furious. “How could you let him teach here? HOW COULD YOU? After everything you said to me, after all the things you said about me trusting him…how could you not tell me that it was him? Because you knew, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?” Harry suddenly felt tears spring into his eyes, and his voice broke. “How could you?” he whispered, clinging to Lupin’s arm as his knees shook.

“Harry, Harry…yes, I knew. But what good would it have done if I had told you earlier?” Dumbledore said desperately, his face pale. “You disliked him enough, and I needed you to trust him, I needed you to -”

“YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO TELL ME EVERYTHING LAST YEAR! YOU LIED TO ME! I have every right not to trust him! How could you let him teach her…how could you let him teach ME when you knew what he’d done?”

“Harry, I - ”

“And YOU!” Harry snarled, turning to Snape. “How can you even speak about my dad after what you did? How can you say all that stuff about him…that he was a coward, that he was a bully…HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY ALL THAT AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO HIM??”

Still Snape said nothing; he just looked at Harry, his face a mask of blankness. Lupin had not spoken a word since Harry had had his outburst, but he suddenly took a step forward towards Snape.

“You bastard,” he said quietly, his face ashen. “You loathsome, spineless bastard. How can you even look Harry in the eye after what you’ve done?”

Snape still remained silent, although his eyes flashed.

“Remus, if you will sit I will explain everything. And Harry, you too…”

Harry shook his head at Dumbledore. He was no longer angry with him, but he felt utterly disappointed and dejected. This time, he thought, he really had lost his trust in Dumbledore.

“No, sir” he said calmly. “I don’t want to hear it”. Turning away sharply he walked blindly to the door, pulled it open and stumbled down the stairs. 

 

 

 

PLEASE REVIEW :)


	11. Just Ginny....

  
11

Harry punching Snape caused even more interest then when he had stunned him, presumably because it was much more physical, and far less usual. When Harry arrived back in the Common Room following that disastrous Occlumency lesson, Ron and Hermione took one look at his stricken face and followed him up to the boy’s dormitory, Hermione looking rather nervous as she did so.

“Harry, what happened? Didn’t it go well? She asked anxiously, as she perched on the end of Ron’s bed.

“It’s Snape, isn’t it?” Ron asked darkly. “What did he do?”

Harry swallowed. “It was him. The person who overheard Trelawney reciting the prophecy to Dumbledore…the person who told Voldemort about it…the person who made him go after my parents…it was Snape”.

 “No!” gasped Hermione, her hand over her mouth. “Harry…are you…are you sure?”

“I saw it. I saw his memory. It was him”.

“I cant believe it…” Ron said quietly. “I mean, we all knew he was filth, but that…how can he say all that stuff about your dad after he’s done that?”

Harry shrugged. “That’s what I said”.

“Harry…you didn’t get too angry, did you?” Hermione said, looking concerned.

“Of course I got bloody angry!” Harry snapped. “He’s the reason my parents are dead - I think that’s a perfectly good reason to get angry and give someone a smack, don’t you?”

“Oh, you didn’t hit him did you, Harry?” she asked, looking scandalised.

“Yes”, Harry replied shortly, ignoring her appalled face.

“You hit him? Wicked! Where? How many times?” Ron said, a grin splitting his face.

“As many places as I could reach, and a lot” Harry said, feeling a grim pleasure as he remembered the feel of his hand thudding against Snape’s face.

“Mate…look at your hand!” Ron said, with awe in his voice. Harry looked at his fist, and was surprised to see that his knuckled were split and bleeding, and already they were purple-tinged. So he must have hit Snape quite hard…very hard… 

Ron grabbed Harry’s hand and looked at it with respect. “That is amazing, Harry! First you stun him, then you whack him! What are you going to do next??”

“He’s not going to do anything next, Ron. Are you, Harry? What are you going to do in his lessons now? Will he teach you still?” Hermione asked, looking worried.

“I dunno, and I don’t care. I’m not going back to his classes. I’m sorry, Hermione, but I cant. I can barely bring myself to look at him. I’ll go to the library and do my own work there. I’ll be fine”.

  
When Harry went back down to the Common Room a short while later, it was to find that Ron had told literally everyone about him hitting Snape. To Harry’s relief, however, he hadn’t told them exactly what it was that Snape had done to warrant such action; Harry wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want everyone knowing that his parents were dead because of Snape. Everyone wanted to have a look at Harry’s hand, which Harry had left bruised and cut, despite Hermione’s constant offers that she could heal it for him.

“You don’t understand, Hermione, I don’t want it to heal right now. I like remembering how it got there”.

“Oh, alright” she said irritably. “Harry, what did Dumbledore say about it? I mean, after you hit Snape? He cant have been…okay with it? He must have told you off?”

“No, not really. I think he was just so surprised that I‘d found out. He’ll probably want to see me about it soon, but I don’t think he’ll go mad about it. I think he knew how I’d react if I knew - that’s why he was so keen on keeping it from me”.

Harry settled back against his chair, pulled out his wizard chess board and sat back for a game with Ron. They had only been playing for about ten minutes when a third year approached Harry nervously.

“Harry Potter? Professor McGonagall asked me to give you this…it’s from Professor Dumbledore”, he said handing Harry an envelope. Harry took it, giving Ron and Hermione significant looks, before tearing it open and starting to read.

_Dear Harry,_  
I understand why you got so angry and were so hurt when you realised that it was Professor Snape who had passed the information about the prophecy to Lord Voldemort. I know I told you last year that I was going to tell you everything, and I have - apart from that. I had my reasons for not wanting you to know this, least of all because it would mean that an already difficult relationship would become impossible. You MUST trust me on this, Harry. I know I have let you down before, but please give me the benefit of the doubt this time. Professor Snape made a terrible mistake, and you have no idea of the remorse he felt afterwards. He did not know how Lord Voldemort would interpret the prophecy, and whilst it is true that no love was lost between himself and your father, he did not desire his death, and certainly not the death of your mother, and you - an innocent baby.   
As a result of the events this afternoon, Professor Snape has told me that he does not think it advisable for him to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts anymore, although I am sure you would not have attended the lessons had he not said this. I am not going to lecture you about the wrongs of your violence, Harry, because I daresay you already know. But know that had the circumstances been different, you would indeed be in deep water for your actions today.   
I have written you this letter because I do not think that you particularly want to talk to me about what happened - and indeed, perhaps a break is what we both need to regain the trust and friendship that I, at least, felt we had. Please try to trust me again, Harry. It is very important.  
There is another letter in the envelope that I do not wish you to read now - in fact, I have charmed it so it is unreadable until the time I feel it is appropriate for you to read it. That time will be when I am not there…perhaps I have gone somewhere, perhaps I have died, perhaps I have just spent too long in the Hogshead and forgotten my duties…if this is the case you will need the information that is written there, especially a certain part about whom you must now turn to. Keep this letter safe, Harry - it is of the greatest importance.  
Perhaps it is best if we do not have any more meetings until after Christmas - a mere three weeks from now, how time flies! I daresay you shall catch a glimpse of me over the Christmas holidays as I fulfil my duties for the Order. Mrs Weasley would like you to know that you will be spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place, as will the other Weasleys, because the Burrow has been deemed unsafe for you to stay for a prolonged period of time.   
I trust you are working hard at your training with Kingsley and Tonks, and remember to clear your mind every night before you sleep.  Do not forget that you must continue with your Defence Against the Dark Arts work - may I suggest the Room of Requirement to study in? It will have all the books and materials you may need, as no doubt you discovered when you used it for the delightfully named Dumbledore’s Army last year.  
If you have any questions, or anything you would like to say to me, do not hesitate to contact me. I promise I will give you the truth, Harry.  
I am yours most sincerely,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore 

“Blimey, that letter’s a bloody essay!” Ron exclaimed as Harry handed it over to him after he’d finished. He looked in the envelope and sure enough there was another letter inside, but when Harry opened it he saw that it was completely blank - not a word was written.

“It’s a concealment spell, Harry” Hermione explained, seeing his puzzled look. “It’ll only reveal itself to you when the writer would have wanted it”.

“God, he absolutely LOVES you, doesn’t he?” Ron grumbled, handing the letter over to Hermione. “You beat your teacher to a pulp and he doesn’t even tell you off! You’re like the son he never had…so lucky.”

“I didn’t exactly beat him to a pulp, Ron” Harry said with a smile. “Although I probably would have done if Remus hadn’t pulled me off him”.

“Are you going to reply, Harry?” asked Hermione, folding the letter back up and handing it back to him.

“I dunno…I hadn’t thought”.

“Well, I think you should. I know you’re annoyed that he didn’t tell you, but he’s been extraordinarily nice to you given the extent of what you did to Snape. You know that he only didn’t tell you because he thought it was the right thing to do. You know that, Harry”.

“Yeah, I know” Harry replied heavily. “I’m not angry at him - I think I’m too angry with Snape to have any anger left over - but I just feel a bit…I dunno…let down. Because he DID tell me he was going to tell me everything before, and he didn’t, did he? But I s’pose I will reply…just to let him know how I feel about it, really”.

He drew out his quill and a piece of parchment and began to write, pausing every now and then to think.

_Dear Sir,_  
Thank you for you letter - I appreciated it, and yes, I do agree that it’s probably best not to meet again until after Christmas. I understand and accept that you didn’t tell me because you thought it was in my best interest, but I think you know I disagree with that.  You said you hope we can regain the trust and friendship that you thought we had, and I hope that in time we can do that too. I’m not angry with you, sir, but I did mean what I said earlier - I do feel that I have lost my trust in you, but hopefully this is something that will return with time, because I am very aware and very grateful of everything you have done for me. I also appreciate the fact that you are always ready to forgive, and I hope that that is something I will be able to emulate, although not in the case of Snape. (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to call him ‘Professor’ again sir…sorry).  
I will of course carry on with my Defence lessons, and I think Hermione will want to go over everything in the lessons anyway, so I think I’ll be okay. I will keep the other letter safe until the time arrives to read it, although I hope you don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. You are one of the few people that make me feel that I can fulfil the prophecy, so I don’t know what would happen if you weren’t there.  
Have a good Christmas, sir.  
Yours,  
Harry

“That’s really good, Harry…very mature!” Hermione beamed at him after she read it.  
Ron rolled his eyes at her behind her back.

  
The next few weeks seemed to fly by. Harry was worked harder than ever by Kingsley and Tonks, and his confidence was growing; although he was very much aware that he still had a long way to go, he was satisfied that he was making the necessary progress.  During the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, Harry did indeed go to the Room of Requirement, and he was right in thinking that Hermione would be vigilant in testing him, and making sure he was up to date. She seemed slightly disgruntled that Harry was progressing faster than the actual class, and that she was unable to catch him out at all. 

“Don’t get too complacent, though Harry. Don’t forget that without Snape marking your homework you won’t be able to get any feedback - you won’t know if you’re doing it right!”

“Hermione, I’m sure you would have told me by now if I was doing anything wrong. You’re just annoyed because you’ve realised that you can learn perfectly well without a teacher”.

Hermione stuck her nose in the air and muttered something incoherent, and Harry grinned, but the smile faded from his face relatively quickly. He had felt oddly detached from things lately, although he wasn’t sure why. He supposed he might be overdoing things; he had no spare time at all. In between all his usual lessons, he had vast amounts of homework, intense duelling training regimes every day, which now involved him running around the Hogwarts grounds every evening, and Quidditch practice. They had only played one match so far against Hufflepuff, which they had won easily, but for the first time in his life Harry wasn’t sure whether he should spend so much time focussing on the sport. Surely some things - like his training - came first? Surely it was more important to focus on that? Although he knew this, Harry felt resentful that he had hardly any time to himself, to relax or chat with his friends. 

He walked into the Common Room late one evening after finishing his run, which he had started later than usual because he had to finish his Transfiguration essay. The room was deserted apart from one person standing near one of the tables.

“Hey Ginny” Harry said quietly, still short of breath. She turned quickly.

“Oh, hi Harry. You made me jump. I was just about to go up, I had to finish my essay for Snape. He‘s a nightmare, you‘re so lucky you don’t have him anymore.”

“Well, you know what to do if you want him to refuse to teach you,” Harry said with a grin. Ginny laughed.

“Somehow I don’t think Dumbledore would be so accepting if it was me who hit him” she said, shaking her head ruefully. “Have you been running or something? You’re all red.”

“Oh…yeah” Harry said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He hoped he didn’t look too sweaty. He was very aware of how fresh and pretty Ginny looked; she had changed out of her school robes and was wearing jeans and deep green v-neck top that complemented her hair. “Yeah, I just had to…I mean, I just felt like a run.”

“You felt like it, did you?” she said sceptically, one eyebrow raised. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Kingsley breathing down your neck?”

“How d’you know that?” Harry asked, surprised.

“I bumped into Tonks the other day. She told me about your little regime. I don’t know how you’re managing, Harry. I was exhausted just hearing about it!”

“Yeah, well…I mean, its okay really. It’s pretty important that I do it, I s’pose…and I’m getting fitter, so…”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Ginny coolly, looking at his arms appraisingly. Harry once again felt embarrassingly self-conscious.

“Er…so how’s things with you and Dean?” he asked suddenly.

Ginny blinked. “Fine”, she said cautiously. “Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, no reason…just wondered, really…I mean, I’ve never really talked to you about it, so…”

“You mean apart from the time you said you agreed with Ron about me being too young for boys?” she said evenly, picking up her homework from the table.

“…er…” Harry faltered, unsure whether she was still annoyed with him for that.

She gave a small smile. “It doesn’t matter, Harry. Its fine”. She turned to go.

“Wait! Ginny…” - she turned back to face him enquiringly - “I didn’t really mean that you’re too young…I mean, I don’t think that…its just…that…”

She waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t she looked at him questioningly.  
“Yes, Harry?”

“It’s just that your Ron’s sister and you’re like a sister to me too and I don’t want you to get hurt” he said, all in one breath. She was silent for a few moments.

“I see,” she said quietly after a while. “Well, Harry, the thing both you and Ron don’t seem to realise is that I’m not a little child who needs protecting anymore. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing, and that extends to whom I chose to go out with. I’ve never needed Ron’s help and I certainly don’t need yours now”. She looked at him rather coldly, her arms folded.

“Fine” Harry said loudly, folding his arms too. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then she picked up her bag and began to walk quickly to the stairs.

“Ginny!” Harry said again, unable to stop himself. “Ginny, wait!” When she showed no signs of stopping, he ran up to her and grabbed her arm. “Wait! Look, I…don’t be annoyed with me”.

“I’m not annoyed with you, Harry” she said softly, looking up at him. He was suddenly aware of how close they were…he felt himself grow uncomfortably warm.

“Erm…look, I know you don’t need looking after…I know that…its just…er…”   
He stopped again, unsure of what he was trying to say. She looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning.

“What are you trying to say, Harry?”

“Just that…you know…” Harry wondered why his brain didn’t seem to be working properly. There was a tiny blemish, like a freckle, on her chest, and for some reason his eyes kept being drawn to it - he couldn’t seem to look away: he hoped she didn’t think he was trying to look down her top.

“Yes, Harry?” she asked again.

“Just…you know…look after yourself” he finished lamely. She looked at him for a few moments, a strange look on her face, and then she nodded.

“I will, Harry. You too. Goodnight”.

“Goodnight” he echoed, as she walked up the stairs. He sat down heavily on the nearest chair. What was wrong with him? This was just Ginny…just little Ginny Weasley…except she wasn’t so little anymore, was she, part of his brain said. Harry shook his head violently. It was just Ginny…just Ron’s little sister…he’d known her for years. They were friends, they’d spent weeks together over the holidays, laughing at Fred and George, playing Quidditch, practising unknown spells on the annoying garden gnomes…Ginny had always been there in the background…except recently she’d seemed to come into the foreground…recently she seemed to have acquired her own little place right in the front of Harry’s mind.  
What on earth was going on?

 

 

 

(I really hope you're enjoying it, guys! I'm sure you know Ginny and Harry will get together, but i'm loving writing all the will they/wont they stuff, so expect a little bit more before it finally happens :) ! I also loved the more turbulent relationship we saw between Dumbledore and Harry in books 5 and 6 - i think it made it much more real and interesting - so it's not going to be completely plain sailing for these two! But dont worry, they wont have any more big arguments, for those who dont like the angsty Harry!! Are there any characters you would like to see more of? PLEASE REVIEW :) and let me know!) 


	12. The Truth-Reader

  
12

There was a little bit of tension between Harry and Ginny for the next few weeks, although both of them pretended that they didn’t notice. It wasn’t very obvious - they both just spoke to each other less than they usually had done, and avoided situations where it was just them on their own. No-one seemed to notice, apart from the one person who seemed to noticed everything.

“What happened with you and Ginny, Harry?” asked Hermione, the day before Hogwarts broke up for the Christmas holidays.

“What d’you mean?” said Harry, startled, turning around to face her. “Nothing‘s happened.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows in that annoying, all-knowing way she had. “Come on, Harry. You can tell me.” She pushed a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes away impatiently. “Did you kiss?”

“What?! Of course we didn’t! She’s Ron’s sister!” Harry spluttered. “She’s going out with Dean!”

Hermione shrugged. “Things happen. You like her, though, don’t you?”

“No! Well, sure, I LIKE her, but not in the way you’re implying, Hermione. I don’t know why…you’re just….”

Hermione sighed loudly. “It’s obvious, Harry. Deny it all you want, I know you like her. If you actually admitted it we could talk about it…I could tell you what she really thinks…”

Harry goggled at her for a few moments, then shook his head firmly. “Sorry to disappoint you. You may always be right when it comes to books, but you’re not right in this.”

Hermione tutted loudly, and Harry caught the words “stubborn” and “in denial.”

“Alright Harry, Hermione, I was just -” Ron began, walking in through the portrait hole. He paused, looking suspicious. “What are you two looking so guilty about?”

“Nothing,” they both said in unison, trying to look innocent. 

Ron frowned.  “What were you just talking about before I came in?”

Hermione said nothing, and Harry flushed. “We weren’t talking.”

Ron looked at the pair of them with narrowed eyes, and then carried on what he was saying, his tone much colder than what it had been before. “Well, anyway…we’re going to floo to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, from McGonagall’s office. You too, Hermione…mum says your parents are expecting you in the evening.” He shot them another deeply suspicious look before heading off to the boys’ dormitories. Hermione gave Harry a blank look.

“What on earth’s got him so annoyed?” she said with a frown. 

“I have no idea,” replied Harry.

  
The next morning the three knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall’s office, their trunks in tow. They pushed the door open and made their way to the fireplace. Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, marking some parchments. She looked up as they entered.

“Ah, Potter, Weasley, Granger…off to Grimmauld Place?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry answered, pulling his trunk closer to the fireplace.

“Very well. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet, please. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Professor,” Ron said, taking a pinch of floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. There was outburst of green flames and then he was gone, Hermione quickly stepping up.

“Merry Christmas, Professor,” she too said, and moments later she was gone. Harry put a foot into the grate, and gave a small smile to McGonagall.

“Potter,” she said, looking back up from her work. “Try to enjoy yourself this Christmas, won’t you?”

“Er…yeah, of course Professor,” Harry said, feeling rather thrown.

“I know you’re working very hard at the moment, but do remind Kingsley that the holidays are also a time for rest. And if I may say so, you certainly look as though you need some,” she finished, eyeing his pale face with evident disapproval.

“Er…right…well, I’m sure Mrs Weasley will make sure I don’t work too hard, anyway,” he answered with a grin. “Have a good holiday, Professor.”

“You too, Potter.”

Harry took a pinch a powder, threw it into the grate and stated his destination as clearly as possible, clutching his trunk to his chest tightly. A few turbulent moments later he was staggering out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, with Mrs Weasley waiting for him, beaming all over her face.

“Oh Harry, it’s lovely to see you again!” she said, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You too, Mrs Weasley,” Harry gasped.

“Ron and Hermione are already in the kitchen, I’ve served lunch. Leave your things here and go and join them - you could do with a decent meal!”

Harry joined his friends at the table, although Ron was still strangely cold.

“Where’s Ginny?” Harry asked, noticing her absence. Hermione looked up from her meal and gave Harry an interested look, which Harry tried to ignore.

“She’s coming in the afternoon,” Ron grunted, not pausing from his relentless shovelling down of food. When they had finished Hermione stood up and smiled at the two boys.

“Well, I should be going now…mum and dad will worry if I’m not back. But I’ll be coming over on Boxing Day, I’ve sorted it with your mum, Ron.”

“Right,” Ron said dismissively.

Hermione faltered, then fixed a smile on her face again. “Well…have a good Christmas, Ron,” she said, giving him a hug which he returned half-heartedly. “And you too, Harry.” She leaned over to hug him too, and as she did so whispered in his ear. “Think about what I said about Ginny, Harry”. She pulled away, and gave him a quick, secretive smile, before trotting down the corridor to say goodbye to Mrs Weasley. Ron turned at once to look at Harry.

“What did Hermione just say to you?” he said, rather aggressively.

“What? Oh, er…nothing,” Harry said quickly. Ron’s ears went red.

“Don’t lie to me, I heard her whisper something to you. What was it?”

“Nothing…nothing important anyway.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he took a step closer to Harry. “What’s going on with you two?” he hissed.

“What?” Harry repeated, confused.

“There’s there something between you and Hermione, isn’t there?” asked Ron quietly, his hands clenched into fists. Harry began to laugh; so this was what Ron had gotten so annoyed about the previous day.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Ron snarled. Harry stopped instantly, the smile still on his face.

“Aw Ron, I’m sorry…but it IS funny. No, of course there’s nothing between me and Hermione…she’s like a sister to me. You know that.”

“Well, what was all that whispering and huddling about yesterday and just now? I’m not stupid, you know.”

“That was…that was about something completely different, Ron. There’s nothing between me and Hermione -  never has been. And if you don’t mind a bit of advice, I’d tell you to get a move on there. She’s not going to wait forever.”

“You…what?” said Ron, his face turning even redder. “I’m not…what d’you mean, ‘get a move on’?”

Harry sighed. “Ron, we both know you like Hermione. Just admit it, and then maybe you both can stop tip-toeing around the fact that you’re head over heels in love and actually do something about it!” He smirked at the look on Ron’s face.

“I’m not in love with her!” Ron said indignantly.

“Yeah, whatever. Just do something about it sometime soon, okay? It’s getting tiresome. I know you like her, and I know she likes you, so just go with it.”

Ron stared at Harry few a few moments, and then cocked his head. “What d’you mean, you know she likes me? How does she like me? What has she said?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

  
The next week was mostly very enjoyable for Harry; Mrs Weasley’s cooking was as appreciated as ever, and Fred and George’s presence - although not that regular, because they were very busy with the Christmas rush of their joke shop - was always a source of light relief. One evening, a short while before he was about to go to sleep, Harry was lying on his bed doing his nightly practice of trying to clear his mind. Suddenly, with two loud CRACKS, Fred and George apparated right beside him.  
Harry jumped.

“Do you two have to do that?!” he exclaimed, sitting up straight. “You should at least give some kind of warning…I might have been doing something private!”

Fred gave Harry a mock-confused look. “But, dearest Harry, whatever could you be doing alone on your bed at night that you wouldn’t want us to see?”

“Oh shut up,” Harry muttered. “What do you two want anyway?”

“Well that’s not very polite,” began George, shaking his head in disapproval. “Especially since my brother and I only came here to give you an early Christmas present.”

Harry looked around suspiciously. “What is it?”

Fred delved inside his pocket and brought out a small silver ball with a flourish.

Harry stared. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

“That, my mild-mannered friend, is a truth-reader.”

“A what?” Harry asked, taking the ball in his hand. There was a small rectangle, like a screen, at the top. “What does it do? Where did you get it?”

“We made it,” said Fred proudly. “Courtesy of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. They’re selling like hot cakes, you have to reserve one now. But for you, our famous founder, it’s free.”

“Oh. Erm…thanks. So…what does it do?”

“It’s ingenious,” Fred said. “My exceedingly handsome brother had the idea. Basically, you ask a question - anything, within reason - and it’ll tell you the truth.”

“Anything?” Harry asked, feeling slightly breathless.

“Well…ALMOST anything,” George conceded. “You can’t ask it stuff that hasn’t happened. For example…will my equally handsome brother manage to get mum to remove Percy’s hand from the clock?” He nodded at the ball, and Harry saw the words ‘Ask me something else’ appear in the little rectangle at the top.

“Or,” Fred carried on, “will Harry Potter, the humble and great Chosen One, be able to kill You-Know-Who so we can all live in peace?” The same message materialised on the screen.     

“How accurate is it?” asked Harry, already thinking what question he wanted to ask it first.

“Er…not a hundred percent accurate,” said Fred, a little bit sheepishly. “About ninety-five percent accurate. But, you know…that’s pretty accurate,” he finished defensively.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is…thanks guys.”

“No probs, little Harry. Have fun!” With a wink and a grin and two loud CRACKS the twins were gone again. Harry settled back on his bed, the truth-reader in his hand. He took a deep breath.

“Does Ginny Weasley still like me?” he asked quietly. Holding his breath he waited, and then the words ‘most likely, yes’ appeared. Grinning to himself, Harry held the truth-reader in his hand, all thought of clearing his mind replaced with ones where he and a certain red-head ran though the snow together, held hands, and kissed under the mistletoe.

  
“Heya, Harry” said Ginny dully, walking into his room the following evening. “Guess who’s here?” She flopped onto his bed, a scowl on her face.

“Er…who?” Harry asked, trying to sound at ease.

“Phlegm,” Ginny muttered darkly. “Ron’s already downstairs making a fool of himself. Honestly, he’ll never learn.”

Harry grinned. “Ah well…at least it makes entertaining viewing for us.”

Ginny nodded. “That’s true. Hey, is that one of Fred and George’s truth-readers?” She picked up the ball from where it was lying at the end of Harry’s bed. “Did they give it to you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry nodded, suddenly nervous. He hoped Ginny wouldn’t ask it anything embarrassing.

“Hmm…” Ginny thought for a bit. “I know! Does Harry fancy Phlegm as much as Ron?”  She waited, and then the words ‘Impossible’ appeared on the screen. They both laughed.

“I could have told you that,” Harry said, trying to take the truth-reader from her, but she held onto it.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked, suddenly serious. Harry felt a flicker of irritation.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. “Why does everyone always ask me that?”

“Because it’s painfully obvious to all of us that you’re not,” Ginny said calmly, looking at him intently. “We’re your friends, Harry. We want to help you cope with everything.”

“Look, I’m fine, okay? I mean…yeah, it’s not exactly the best time of my life, but I’m managing. I’m doing my training, I’m talking to people…seriously, I’m fine. I’m coping, really.”

Ginny looked at him for a bit longer, and then turned back to the truth-reader. “Is Harry really coping with everything, like he says he is?” Harry tried to snatch it off her but she darted away. “It says ’not really, no’, Harry,” she said coolly, showing him the screen. Harry lunged for it again, and this time managed to wrestle it from her.  

“Is Ginny happy being with Dean?” he asked suddenly, not knowing why. He looked up at her smugly. “Oh look…it says ‘no‘, too.”

Ginny flushed. “That was below the belt, Harry. Why don’t you ask it if you’ll ever be able to hold down a functional relationship, or whether your irrational temper and paranoia will make that impossible,” she snapped. Harry glared at her, feeling his all-too familiar anger rising, then held out the truth-reader again.

“Tell me,” he began slowly. “Will there be a single boy at Hogwarts who Ginny Weasley won’t have gone out with by the time she leaves?” 

Ginny opened her mouth in shock, and Harry knew that he had gone too far. He didn’t know what made him ask that, and was regretting it already. Ginny’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and she reached out a hand and slapped Harry hard across the face. He gasped in pain and surprise as Ginny looked at her hand, as though she couldn’t believe what she had done. They looked at each other for a few moments, then tears sprang up in Ginny’s eyes and she whirled away.

“Ginny, wait!” Harry said quickly, gripping her wrists. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…I don’t know why I said it.”

“I think it’s perfectly obvious why you said that, Harry,” she spat, trying to tug her wrists from his grip. “Get off me.” Harry didn’t let go, and she struggled violently. “Harry, let go of me!”

“Not until you’ve listened to me, Ginny. Really, I’m sorry, I just…will you stop struggling!” he burst out as she continued to pull on his hands and wriggle away. He pushed her against the wall so her movement were restricted and tried again. “Ginny, just listen to me, ok…”

“Maybe later, Harry…I’m really not in the mood right now!” she hissed. “Now let go of me!”

“Hey, what’s happening here?” said a voice suddenly, and Harry and Ginny’s heads both flicked round. Ron was standing in the doorway, confusion etched on his face.  As he took in Ginny - tearful, struggling and backed against the wall - and Harry - holding both her arms against the wall, with a hand mark across his cheek - his confusion quickly turned to rage. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING TO MY SISTER, HARRY? GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!”

Harry dropped Ginny’s wrists like he’d been burnt. “Ron, it’s not like that…I know what it looks like but…” His explanation was cut off as Ron gave him a hard shove in the chest, fury etched on his face.

“MY LITTLE SISTER, HARRY! MY LITTLE SISTER!”

“No, Ron, I wasn’t…honest…I…” Harry’s explanation was cut off again as was suddenly forced to duck a punch Ron threw at him. “Ron, will you just listen for a minute!”

“I don’t need to listen, Harry. I saw you, you had her backed against a wall…she was CRYING, and you just…you’re supposed to be my best mate!” He ran at Harry, who quickly dodged, and tried to pin Ron against the wall. They tussled for a few seconds until - 

“STOP!”

They thought it was Mrs Weasley at first, such was the force and authority behind the voice, but when they turned they saw Ginny, her hands balled tightly and her face red. “Will you two just grow up and stop fighting! Ron, Harry’s telling the truth, okay?”

Ron’s mouth opened and shut stupidly. “But you….I saw him…he was pinning you…”

“Harry was trying to tell you but you wouldn’t listen. He and I had an argument, we both said things we shouldn’t have, and I slapped Harry. I went to leave but Harry tried to stop me, to apologise. I wouldn’t listen and was trying to leave, so he just pinned me against the wall so I had no choice but to listen. It really wasn’t anything sinister. ” 

Ron looked at Ginny in confusion, and then turned even redder. “Yeah…well…what were you arguing about?”

Harry paused. “Er…just…you know, nothing really….”

“That’s not really any of your concern, Ron,” Ginny said, although no unkindly. “Anyway, it was just a misunderstanding, okay?”

Ron nodded slowly, then turned to Harry. “Yeah, I thought it might be…I knew you wouldn’t do anything like that, Harry.”

Harry choked. “You knew…Ron, you tried to punch me!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it, did I? It wasn’t a hard punch, it was just a little one. Anyway, you ducked it.”

“Yes, I did, thankfully,” Harry said shaking his head. “God, I’d hate to be the poor sod who ever really does hurts Ginny, especially if the rest of the family are as protective as you!”

“I don’t need protecting, Harry!” Ginny said indignantly, her hands on her hips.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I know you don’t, Ginevra.”

“Yes you do!” Ron argued. “If I hadn’t come in and rescued you from Harry…”

“Rescued me?? From what…a guy trying to apologise?” Ginny said scornfully.

Ron went red again. “Well anyway…the reason I even came up in the first place is because mum says dinner’s ready. So come down.” 

He turned abruptly and hurried out the door. There was an awkward silence until both Ginny and Harry muttered “sorry,” simultaneously. Ginny looked up and gave Harry a smile, which Harry returned.

“Gin, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you if I did, I…” 

She shook her head and cut him off. “No, Harry, you’ve already apologised. I know you’re sorry, and I know you didn’t mean what you said. I’m sorry too - I need to learn to respect your privacy. And I’m also sorry for slapping you…your cheek’s all red!”  
   
“Nah, it’s fine. Didn’t hurt anyway,” Harry lied. Ginny grinned, and he laughed and relaxed. “God, we’re a pair aren’t we?” He picked up the truth-reader and held it in the palm of his hand. “Will Ginny and Harry ever have a nice, simple relationship?” Ginny leaned over his arm to see as the words ’ask me something else’ appeared. They laughed.

“Evidently not,” Ginny said, touching his arm gently. “Come on, let’s go and eat.”

She turned and walked out the door and Harry followed, although he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, or ignore the burning patch on his arm where she had just touched him.

 

 

(Okay, not my best chapter i know, but i needed to have one where he just arrives at G.P for Xmas, and there's no "real" drama yet...there's some more drama in the next chapter, which hopefully will be better :) PLEASE REVIEW!!)


	13. A Tragic Loss

  
****

13

****

“Merry Christmas, mate!”

As per usual, Harry felt himself wake up to a pillow thrown in his face, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Merry Christmas, Ron. Ah, I see you’re already wearing your Weasley jumper!”

“Yeah…maroon _again_ ,” Ron said, plucking fondly at his jumper. “Here’s yours, look.” He tossed a soft package over to Harry, which he opened eagerly. He liked being included in having a Weasley jumper; it made him feel like part of the family, and not just some poor orphan that they felt sorry for. His jumper was a brilliant green, with a broomstick and a wand crossed over each other, and a golden crown resting on top.

“This is a bit different, isn’t it?” Harry asked. “Is it meant to represent something?”

Ron looked up from his chocolate frogs and studied the jumper. “I think it’s meant to be symbolic of you being the Chosen One or something…see, the wand and broom represent your strengths, and the crown is like…well, I suppose ’cause you’re like the leader or something.”

“I’m not the leader,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed. He wasn’t sure he liked having a jumper that was illustrating his burden.

“Hey, look!” Ron said excitedly, waving a chocolate frog card in the air. “It’s you, Harry! You’re on the card!”

“What?” Harry said in amazement, scrambling down from his bed and grabbing the card off Ron. Sure enough, there was his picture, grinning up at him awkwardly. He wasn’t sure when the picture had been taken, but it was relatively recent. His eyes scanned the small article beneath the picture quickly.

__

Harry Potter

__

 

__

Harry James Potter, commonly known as The Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One, is a sixteen year old wizard, currently studying at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He rose to fame at only one year of age, when You-Know-Who attempted to, and failed, to kill him. Harry Potter has been credited with the thirteen year disappearance of the Dark Lord, and is the only person in history known to have survived the killing curse. He was the Triwizard Champion at the age of fourteen, where he battled a Hungarian Horntail, and witnessed the reappearance of You-Know-Who, where the two duelled. Harry Potter is known to be the Chosen One: according to a prophecy, this means that he is the only person who can kill You-Know-Who. Harry Potter enjoys Quidditch (he is seeker for his house), wizard chess and exploding snap. 

__

Harry looked up in disbelief. “Why have they put me on there?”

Ron read the card quickly and then looked up, his expression half envious, half proud. “Well, you’re The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, aren’t you? You must be the youngest person ever to be on the cards! Come on Harry…I know you don’t like the attention and all that, but you’ve got to admit, this is pretty cool!”

Harry grinned in spite of himself.

 

After breakfast, the whole Weasley family (except Percy, of course) and Remus took a portkey to the Burrow. Mad-Eye Moody had set it up, apparently, because the floo network was being watched, and they wanted to keep it secret that they were going to the Burrow. Harry had wondered why it was necessary to go to there when they could have easily stayed in Grimmauld Place, but according to Charlie it was just because Mrs Weasley couldn’t face having Christmas anywhere else.

“She’s a real traditionalist, Harry,” he said out of the corner of his mouth as they landed in the Weasley’s kitchen. “We’ve had Christmas here for years and years, and apart from the time they went to Romania to visit me, and last year when dad…well, you know…well, they just wanted to be at home. But don’t worry, loads of the Order are stationed here for extra protection, you‘re quite safe.”

It was a very nice Christmas, Harry thought contentedly as he leaned back on his chair that evening. He had received some great presents, eaten a wonderful dinner, and for the first time ever he beaten Ron at wizard chess, although this was probably due to the fact that Ron was paying hardly any attention; Fleur was in the room, combing her hair with a new golden comb and singing throatily. Fred and George had been delighted with the fact that Harry was now on the chocolate frog cards, and had cast an enlarging spell on the card and hung it in front of the fire, where the picture Harry grinned sheepishly down at them all. Harry had attempted to take it down on many occasions, but whenever he did the Harry on the card began screaming shrilling. Harry had a feeling the twins were responsible for that, too. Dumbledore had arrived shortly after, and as he came into the living room he congratulated Harry heartily about being on the cards.

“I must say, Harry, I’ve been bestowed with a great many honours in my life, but being on the chocolate frog cards is certainly the greatest. I hope this doesn’t rob you of any other ambitions you have in life; there are, in fact, other things that almost level being on the cards”, he said knowingly, his eyes twinkling. 

Harry grinned. “I’ll try and bear that in mind, sir.”

The only thing that had marred his day was the evening arrival of the Daily Prophet, which brought the news that three separate attacks had occurred the previous night. There had been seven fatalities, including those of Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones and Sturgis Podmore. They had been on Order duty, and Harry couldn’t stop the sickening feeling of guilt rise in this stomach. How many more would die because of him? It could have been so simple…if only he’d let Sirius and Remus kill Pettigrew those three years ago…then he could have never have returned to Voldemort, never have brought him back…and all these people - Cedric and Sirius included - would have still been alive. Harry shook his head angrily, flinging the newspaper to the floor. Suddenly loud shouting was heard, and Dumbledore straightened up, his smile gone. Tonks ran into the living room, closely followed by Kingsley.

“Albus, Remus…Percy Weasley has just arrived…he says the wards are down, and there are Death Eaters…come and talk to him, Mrs Weasley’s not thinking straight…”

Tonks gabbled this out very breathlessly, before spinning on her heel and running out again. Remus sprang up from his seat, drawing his wand. Harry jumped up and drew his out too, but Remus pushed him down.

“No, Harry! You must stay inside! You have to stay safe…go upstairs, I’ll message the other Order members, although I daresay Albus has already done that. You too, Ron, Ginny…”

“No way!” Harry said angrily, standing up again and pushing Remus’s hand away. “I’m not going to sit upstairs and hide when there are Death Eaters!” He ran after Remus into the kitchen, closely followed by Ron and Ginny. The kitchen was in a state of chaos; Mr Weasley, Fred, George, Bill and Charlie were staring out of the window anxiously, trying to see if there were any Death Eaters visible; some the other Order members had clearly arrived already, because Mrs Weasley was being placated by Fleur and Professor McGonagall as she clung to Percy, weeping and wailing that her “baby had come back to save them!”: Dumbledore, Moody, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley and Snape were talking intently in the corner, although Harry noticed that Remus and Snape were their level best to ignore each other. Mr Weasley looked up as Harry ran into the room, and is expression grew stern.

“Harry, get upstairs, now! This could be dangerous.”

“Exactly!” Harry yelled indignantly. “You cant expect me to go and hide when my friends’ lives are in danger!”

“Harry, listen…the Death Eaters are here because of YOU…you know that!” Remus said, striding over to him. “Putting yourself in danger completely contradicts every shred of common sense - what’s the point of you running out and getting yourself killed…what are we going to do then? You MUST STAY SAFE!”

“But -” Harry began crossly, but he was cut off.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said loudly. “Please go upstairs. And perhaps your friends should follow,” he finished, looking pointedly at Ron and Ginny. With much grumbling and muttering the three off them trudged along the corridor and up the stairs, walking into a room on the first floor from which they could see what was happening outside.

“I’m not going to stay up here, you know,” Harry said bluntly. “If there’s a fight, I’m going down.”

“Harry, maybe Lupin’s got a point,” Ron began uneasily. “What happens if you get killed? What are we going to do without you…I mean, who’s going to kill You-Know-Who?”

“I’ll make sure I don’t get myself killed then,” Harry said coldly, looking intently out of the window. “Hey!” he shouted suddenly. “Look, can you see them? Figures, over there!” Ron and Ginny leaned closer to the window and followed his gaze. Sure enough, a group of black, cloaked figures were drawing steadily closer…Harry counted quickly; there were fifteen. There were fifteen people downstairs, but Harry knocked off Mrs Weasley - gifted as she was with household spells, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her own against a Death Eater. He wondered about Fred, George and Fleur, but then reasoned that Fleur was good enough to be in the Triwizard Tournament, and although the twins hadn’t finished Hogwarts, Harry knew from personal experience that they were gifted enough with defensive spells. Still, it was fifteen against fourteen - they were outnumbered, however slightly. The figures drew closer, and Harry saw a jet of red light fly from downstairs, it hit a Death Eater square in the chest and he fell over, stunned.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Harry cried, as he saw the Order members run out of the house, their wands drawn, curses flying left right and centre.

“Harry, are you sure you should….”

“Come ON!” he yelled, running down the stairs, his wand drawn. Mrs Weasley was the only one still in the kitchen, wringing her hands and still sobbing over Percy‘s return. Her expression hardened as the three teenagers tumbled into the room

“UPSTAIRS, HARRY! NOW! AND YOU GINNY, RON!”

Harry turned to face her, his expression defiant. “Mrs Weasley, I don’t want to be rude, but there is no way I’m staying upstairs. What was the point in having all that training if I cant help when it’s needed?” Without waiting for an answer he ran out of the door and into the garden. 

“Harry, get out of here!” yelled Remus in panic as he saw Harry. “NOW!”

Harry ignored him, and shot a stunning spell on the nearest Death Eater, which missed, but he followed up with a second that hit its target, and the Death Eater fell to the ground. “I can help!”, he shouted to Remus, as if that proved his point.

“Go upstairs, Potter,” sneered Snape. “You’re no use to us here.”

Harry bristled, and spun round. “I think you just don’t want me here because you know I’ll pick up on the fact that you’re doing your utmost to miss every Death Eater you shoot a curse at…worried you’ll hurt your little friends?” he snarled. Snape said nothing, but turned his back on him. Harry heard a yell of pain as one of the twins - he wasn’t sure which one - tumbled to the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound on his shoulder. Harry shouted “Epsikey!” and pointed his wand at the twin, and the wound healed, although Harry knew whichever twin it was would still be significantly weakened.

“Cheers Harry!” he said, and Harry realised it was George.

“No problem!” he shot back, ducking a jet of green light that was shot his way. 

“No!” he heard one of the Death Eaters snarl to whoever shot the killing curse at him. “Potter is not to be harmed! You heard the Dark Lord!”

Harry heard two thuds from behind him as Ron and Ginny fell to the floor, apparently stunned, and Harry whirled round, ready to curse whoever had stunned them. It was, however, not who he was expecting. Mrs Weasley was dragging both her children into the house, a grim look upon her face.

“Mrs Weasley, did you just stun Ron and Ginny?” Harry yelled in disbelief.

“Yes, I did!” she shouted back defensively. “At least now they won’t be a target! And I’ll be stunning you next, Harry, as soon as I’ve got these two in!” she said fiercely, and Harry made a mental note to be aware of curses coming from behind him, as well as from in front. Harry looked around him quickly; there were numerous unconscious or dead Death Eaters, and a few of their own down, but none looked to be dead. Tonks was crumpled against the wall, wincing in pain, as was Bill Weasley. Dumbledore was holding the fort at the front. Harry noticed that there were far less curses being shot at him from the Death Eater than anyone else, and he realised that none of them wanted to invoke his wrath. Harry heard another yell and turned in time to see Lupin collapse.

“Remus!” he shouted, running towards him.

“I’m okay, Harry!” croaked Lupin, although he was trembling violently, and blood was seeping from his leg. “Just go inside, for goodness sake! For me, Harry, please!”

Harry looked at his pleading eyes and nodded slowly. “Okay,” he muttered. “Hang on, though….” As he ran back towards the kitchen he shot another stunner at the nearest Death Eater, feeling a grim pleasure as his shot hit the target. And then he heard the voice that made his insides boil with rage:

“Ahh, look…little Harry’s scared of the nasty fight and is going to go inside and play. How sweet!”

Harry spun around. The Death Eater had her mask and hood on, but Harry would recognise Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice anywhere. “You!” he snarled, pointing his wand at her. “Diffindo!” he bellowed, sending the severing curse her way. She blocked it, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. Someone else shot a curse at her, and she blocked that too, turning to see who it was. Harry turned too, and was shocked to see that it was Percy. 

“Protego!” Percy shouted, blocking the spell she sent back at him. Another Death Eater shot a curse at him, which he ducked, but which also meant that his guard his down, and his back was turned to Bellatrix. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw Bellatrix point her wand at Percy. Harry quickly shot another stunner at her, but it went wide, and what happened next seem to play out in slow motion.

“Avada Kedavra!” hissed Bellatrix, her eyes glittering madly, her wand pointed at Percy’s back. Percy must have heard the words because he spun around and tried to duck. He was too late. The jet of green light slammed into his chest and he was lifted off his feet, falling backwards onto the grass. His head thumped against the ground as he landed, and his blank, unseeing eyes stared at up Harry accusingly.

“NO!” Harry yelled, hearing other people’s cries echo in his ears. “NO!” He whirled around to Bellatrix and pointed his wand. “CRUCIO!” He knew this time it would work - he knew it wouldn’t be a repeat of the time he tried and failed to do the Cruciatus curse at the ministry. The air was suddenly filled with Bellatrix’s screams of pain as she writhed on the ground, and Harry felt a gruesome amusement as he watched, a strange smile spreading over his face. He heard people shouting his name and yelling at him to stop - Dumbledore, Remus…even Snape - but he ignored.

“Not nice, is it?” he hissed at her through his twisted smile. He lifted the curse for a second so that her yells subsided and she could hear him. “That was for Percy, and for Neville’s parents, for what you did to them….and this -” he said, pointing his wand at her again - “this is for Sirius. CRUCIO!” He felt himself sneer as her screams started.

“Potter, _no_!” 

Harry felt Snape shove him aside and lift the curse, stunning her instead. Suddenly people were all around Harry, surrounding him, pushing him back into the house. Harry craned his head to see how many Death Eaters were left, but there were none that he could see; they must have disapparated. He was led into the kitchen by Kingsley and Moody, both gripping his arms tightly. Someone lowered him into a chair and he sank down gratefully. Percy was dead. _Percy was dead_. He shook his head violently, and looked up. Mrs Weasley had run into the garden and was weeping over Percy’s body, her cries very audible even through the door. Everyone else was in the kitchen. The injured people - Remus, Tonks, Bill and George - were slumped on chairs against the wall, being tended to by Madam Pomfrey, who Harry assumed Dumbledore had just messaged. The rest of them were just standing in silence, stunned. Ron and Ginny were both conscious now and were standing, pale faced and ill looking, staring wordlessly at Mr Weasley.

“Arthur, I am so sorry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It is a tragic loss.”

Mr Weasley nodded. He looked dazed. “Yes, it is.” His voice cracked. “Molly…I should see if…check on her…” He walked numbly into the garden, and put a hand on his weeping wife’s shoulder. Harry stood up. He had seen enough. He walked slowly to the door, but then felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “You should all return to the headquarters…here, take the portkey…Alastor, Minerva, if you are able to will you please accompany them. We will be joining you shortly.”

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George took the portkey. Harry felt the familiar jolt in his lower stomach, and then they crashed into the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. He made to go upstairs instantly, but Ginny put a hand on his arm.

“Harry,” she said, in a low voice. “Harry, you know none of this is you fault.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said obediently.

“Potter, are you hurt?” asked Professor McGonagall, her face ashen and her mouth twitching.

“No, Professor. I’m fine. I just…need to go to bed. To sleep,” he added unnecessarily, his brain working slowly. She hesitated, and Harry took the chance to hurry out of the room, stumbling up the stairs. He pushed his door firmly shut, and slumped down next to it, his head in his hands. Percy was dead. And it WAS his fault, whatever anyone said…Percy was out fighting for HIM, as they all were. It was because of him, like it had been because of him Sirius had died, because of him Cedric had died…

Harry swallowed painfully and staggered to his feet. He delved inside his trunk and finally drew out a piece of paper. He spread it smooth on the floor and took out his quill. Slowly and deliberately, he wrote just a few words on the parchment, before dropping it onto his trunk and climbing into bed, his heart pounding and his head spinning. 


	14. The List of the Dead

 

 

14

To Harry’s surprise he managed to sleep, although it was not a restful sleep; his dreams were punctuated with Percy’s dead eyes staring sightlessly at him, his glasses askew and his mouth open. He woke in the early hours of the morning, drenched in icy cold sweat, with his covers twisted around his legs. His heart was pounding and his scar was tingling, although this was a hardly an unusual event these days. He took several deep breaths and pushed his head back into his pillow. He wanted to sleep; he needed to sleep. He may be haunted by his visions, but at least he wouldn’t have to face the accusatory stares from the Weasleys, and see the grief in Molly and Arthur’s eyes as they realised that he, Harry Potter, was the reason that there would always be one less space at the table, and one more hole in their heart.

Harry awoke again many hours later, feeling even more tired than before. He felt groggy and ill, and his limbs were heavy. He looked in the mirror and groaned silently; his face was pasty white, and dark circles were ringed around his eyes. He stumbled over to the shower and spent a long time in there, trying to wash away the dirt from the previous night…trying to wash away the guilt. He walked downstairs quietly, wondering where everyone was; there had been no-one else upstairs. He walked slowly into the kitchen and then stopped, as he realised that every single person who was there last night was in there. It looked like they were having some sort of informal Order meeting, except Ron and Ginny were there, as was Hermione, who must have arrived earlier that day.

“Oh, Harry, there you are,” said Mrs Weasley weakly, walking over to him and giving him a hug. “We were just about to wake you. It’s three in the afternoon, you know.”

Harry felt heat rising in his face as the many pairs of eyes stared at him. Mrs Weasley’s kindness and hug made Harry feel even worse. He felt tainted, unworthy of her love. She had once said that Harry was as good as a son to her. Would she have said this if she’d known that in adopting Harry as one of her own, she’d lose a real son in the process?

“Mrs Weasley…I’m really sorry…about Percy,” Harry mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Of course you are, dear. We all are,” she said gently. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she seemed to have aged years over night. “But at least…at least we were reunited before he…well, I couldn’t have stood it if we’d still been not speaking and he’d…” she gave a sniff, and passed a hand over her eyes.

“He died a hero, Molly,” said Professor McGonagall kindly. “He’ll be honoured for this.”

Mrs Weasley nodded, and tried to pull herself together. She fixed a watery smile on her face. “You’re right, Minerva. You’re right. Would you like more tea? Oh, Harry, you haven’t got any. Here, let me make you some.” She bustled away to the sink, and Harry felt his heart constrict at the pain he knew she was going through, the pain she was trying so hard to hide. He sat down at the table next to Hermione, and stared at his hands. He didn’t think he could ever look any of the Weasleys in the eye again. Hermione squeezed his arm gently. “You okay, Harry?” she whispered, concern written over her face.

“I’m fine,” he muttered back.

“Oh Harry dear, have you got any clothes that need washing? I’m going to do a big load today!” Mrs Weasley handed him a cup of tea, her voice bright. Harry understood that in her grief she was trying to seek comfort from normalcy, doing the things that represented her normal life.

“Oh…I, er…yeah, I think I might have some…” Harry said awkwardly, still not meeting her eye.

“Ron, go and get Harry’s clothes for him, will you? He needs to eat something. No, Harry, sit down. Ron can do it.”

Ron got up stiffly and trudged over to the door, shutting it rather loudly behind him. There was an awkward silence, which even Fred and George didn’t attempt to fill. It was strange to see them so subdued, but they gave Harry friendly smiles as he looked up, which he was very grateful for. Remus, Tonks, Kingsley and Moody were standing in a corner of the kitchen, sipping mugs of tea and looking rather uncomfortable. Most of the others, apart from Mrs Weasley, were sat around the large kitchen table. Dumbledore was talking quietly to Professor McGonagall, Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Fleur, although Fred and George were trying to listen in. Snape was stood next to the wall behind Dumbledore, looking across the room at nothing in particular. He seemed determined to avoid Harry’s eyes. Hermione and Ginny were whispering softly, and Hermione kept giving Harry’s arm little reassuring pats, which were beginning to annoy him.

“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, looking up from his conversation. “You missed the news earlier today. Bellatrix Lestrange had been taken back to Azkaban, along with the four other Death Eaters that we managed to detain.” He gave Harry a small smile.

“Right,” said Harry, looking at the table. “Good.”

“And also, Harry…the Ministry received information that the Cruciatus curse was used from your wand last night. And that it was used twice.” 

Harry looked up quickly. He’d forgotten he’d managed to torture Bellatrix. Dumbledore was looking at Harry rather sternly, and Professor McGonagall’s mouth thinned disapprovingly. Snape’s lip curled in derision.

“Oh…” Harry said quietly. “Oh, yeah. I…am I in trouble?” he asked softly. He knew that using an unforgivable curse usually resulted in an immediate sentence in Azkaban.

“You would be if they knew it was you, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall grimly. “But we felt it was more…appropriate…to inform them that your wand was used by a Death Eater, and that the curse was administered by them. However,” she said sternly, her nostrils flaring, “I hope you realise what a serious offence you committed last night. We are supposed to be on the good side…unforgivable curses are not usually our style, Potter. The Cruciatus curse is unacceptable to use, however despicable a person is. It is said to be the most pain the human body can stand without giving out, and -”

“Harry is familiar with the Cruciatus curse, Minerva,” said Remus, rather loudly. There was another awkward silence, this time broken by Charlie.

“Well, Harry…I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but good on you. I know it’s illegal and all that, but she deserved it. Well done.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes flashed, and she made as if to argue, but Ginny spoke first.

“Yes, she did,” she stated firmly. “And not just for Percy…she killed Sirius, too…and she’s the reason Neville’s parents are insane and no longer recognise him. If anyone deserves it, she does.”

“Here here” said Fred, and George nodded his agreement. Harry saw the look on Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall’s faces, and tried to justify his actions.

“I didn’t know I could do it,” he said quietly, his head bent. “Because I tried…last year, at the Ministry…after Sirius…I tried to do use it on her then, but I couldn’t. I didn’t really think…I didn’t think I’d be able to do it this time really, either…”

“How things change,” Snape said silkily, speaking for the first time. “If I remember rightly, you took a surprising amount of pleasure in using the curse… Strange. I usually associate such perverse enjoyment at causing pain with somebody else. I’m sure you can guess who.”

There was a loud silence in which Harry stared at Snape. Remus opened his mouth angrily but his voice was drowned out by the noise of the door hitting the wall as it slammed open and Ron marched in, his face red.

“Harry, what the hell is this?” he said angrily, waving a piece of parchment in his hand. Harry stared at Ron, unsure what he was shouting about.

“Ron, what are you -”

“THIS!” Ron brandished the piece of paper in his fist. “Please don’t tell me it’s what I think it is!”

Harry looked at the parchment, his stomach twisting. His face drained. “Give that back,” he said quietly, standing up suddenly. “It’s mine.” He made a lunge for the paper but Ron, being slightly taller than him, held it out of reach. 

“What is it, Harry? What is it?” he asked loudly.

“It’s MINE!” Harry repeated angrily. “Give it BACK!” He grabbed Ron’s arm and twisted it towards him. Ron yelped and tried to push him away. They scuffled for a few moments until Harry was pulled off by Bill.

“What’s this all about?” said Mr Weasley irritably. “What’s on that bit of parchment?” 

“Nothing!” said Harry indignantly, still trying to snatch it back. “Bill, get off me!”

“It’s a list!” Ron said, his face still red. He was staring at Harry with a strange look in his face. 

“A list of what, Weasley?” said Professor McGonagall warily.

“A list of names! Listen…” He lowered the parchment and proceeded to reel of the names, loudly and quickly. “ _Mum, dad, Sirius, Cedric, Bertha Jorkins, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Percy Weasley_ …” He raised his gaze to Harry as his voice trailed off. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Harry.”

Harry said nothing, his face flaming and his insides boiling.

“I don’t get it,” Fred said in confusion, looking from Harry to Ron, and back again. “What’s it meant to mean?”

“It’s a list of people who have died…died because of You-Know-Who” said Charlie slowly, putting two and two together. He looked at Harry, his eyes narrowed. “But…”

“It’s not just that!” said Hermione suddenly, her voice shrill and her eyes sparkling. “It’s a list of the people whose deaths Harry thinks are his fault! It’s the people he thinks have died because of him!”

There was a silence in the room as everyone processed the information. Harry glared at Hermione. “Thanks a lot,” he snarled, turning to go. Moody grabbed his arm with surprising speed.

“Wait, Potter,” he growled. Harry tugged his arm away but Moody gripped it again, this time joined by Lupin.

“Harry,” Remus said softly, holding Harry’s shoulders. “Harry, you can’t possibly think…”

“It doesn’t matter, Remus,” Harry said dully, trying to struggle away.

“Of course it matters, Potter!” Professor McGonagall said, her eyes flashing behind her glasses. “You can’t honestly try and take responsibility for all these deaths! Most of these people were Order members, they knew the dangers!”

Dumbledore was looking at Harry in horror, as were Mr and Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley took a step towards him, her face pale. “Harry, you can’t possibly think this is your fault…Percy, he…it wasn’t…how is this your fault?”

Harry felt his anger rising. Why did they all have to make such a big deal out of it?

“Look, it really doesn’t matter, okay? I just want to go upstairs now.” He tried to pull his arm away from Moody and Remus, but Tonks had joined them, her expression sympathetic yet confused,

“Harry, really…the only person to blame for all this is You-Know-Who. It’s not your fault that Percy died, nor Sirius or anyone else. Especially not Cedric Diggory, that had nothing to do with you, it was You-Know-Who personally, wasn’t it?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Dumbledore corrected weakly, standing up. “On Voldemort’s orders. Harry, you know Cedric’s death was not your fault -”

“ _Do I_?” Harry spat. “Did you know that it was me who made him take the cup? Did you know that? He wanted me to take it, me on my own! But I made him take it with me, I made him come with me, I made him go there! Did you know that, _Professor_?”

“Potter, that hardly qualifies as your fault!” Professor McGonagall said, standing up too.

“And d’you think Sirius would have died if I hadn’t gone running off to the Ministry, if I hadn’t dragged all you lot out there?” Harry continued angrily. “Do you really think that? D’you think that Percy would have died if the Death Eaters hadn’t been here, trying to find ME? It’s the same for all the Order members last night!” He spun around to face Remus. “And the funny thing is, d’you remember when you and Sirius were going to kill Wormtail that time in the Shrieking Shack, and I stopped you?” Remus nodded slowly. “If I had let you, if I hadn’t been so damned _stupid_ and told you not to, Voldemort would never have come back…none of this would have happened!”

“Harry, you stopped us killing him because it was the right thing to do! You weren’t to know what Peter would go and do! You stopped us because you have a heart!”

“Yes, and look where it’s got me!” Harry spat. He turned to Ron, his eyes burning. “So _yes_ , Ron, I do keep a list. I keep it so I don’t forget…so I don’t forget how many people have stood in front of me, died for me…so I don’t forget what it’s cost to get here…so I don’t forget what I have to do. This is MY fault, and it’s MY burden, and I don’t need you to try and make me feel even worse, okay?” 

The room stared in silence as Harry turned sharply and walked stiffly to the door, shutting it surprisingly quietly behind him. Mrs Weasley put a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, that poor, poor boy,” she said, her voice muffled. 

Ron was standing dumbstruck on the spot, still holding the list in his hand. His face had turned from red to white, his freckles standing out against the pallor of his skin.

“He…I didn’t realise he…” He tailed off, obviously mortified at the drama he had caused.

“Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said softly, leaning forward and taking the list. “Were you aware that Harry blamed himself for all this?” Ron shook his head, but Hermione nodded slightly. 

“Well, no for _all_ of it,” she said sadly, her eyes sparkling with tears. “But I knew…Cedric…we knew he blamed himself for that…it took him ages to get over it.” She gave a small mirthless laugh. “Well…I think it’s clear he hasn’t got over it. And Sirius…I did think he blamed himself for that…”

“I knew he did,” said Remus slowly. “But I never dreamed he blamed himself for anything else…I mean, Bertha Jorkins? That’s…insane. And his parents…how can he possibly think that was his fault? He was just a baby, Lily and James did what any parent would…how can he blame himself for that? He’s being so…”

“Bloody stupid,” Ron muttered.

“Ron!” Hermione said reproachfully. “But I…it’s true, I don’t know how it’s got to this. He never used to be this bad.” She put her hand over her mouth as if she had said something rude.

“It’s because of the prophecy,” Ginny said suddenly. Everyone’s head swivelled to her. “Because it says he’s the only one who can do it…kill You-Know-Who,” she explained. “Now he knows that it’s pretty much all down to him, he blames himself for everyone else who dies. I think he feels that the longer it takes him to finish You-Know-Who off, than the more people die…because of him.”

“But that’s ridiculous!” Kingsley exclaimed violently. “No-one can expect a semi-qualified sixteen year old to go running after You-Know-Who and successfully kill him! He must finish his training!”

Ginny nodded. “I know. _We_ all know that. But that comment Zacharias Smith said when the prophecy came out - about how he should go and try and kill You-Know-Who, and not ‘doss around’ at school while more people die - well, that really got to him.”

Professor McGonagall looked furious. “I knew I should have given Smith a detention for that. Idiot boy!” she said vehemently, her eyebrows constricted. Mrs Weasley took a few steps towards the door and made to open it.

“Wait, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione said nervously. “I think maybe you shouldn’t go up just yet…Harry can be rather….er…. _difficult_ …when he’s angry.”

Ron nodded fervently. “I’ll say. Yeah mum, you really don’t want to go up yet.”

Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips. “Ron Weasley, how can you be so insensitive? You heard what Harry said, he must be feeling awful…I think he’s upset, not angry. Someone should go and see him.”

“No, Molly, please wait,” said Dumbledore heavily. “I must say I agree with Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. I don’t think Harry is that angry…I agree he’s more upset. But if I know Harry, I think he wants to be alone right now…he’s rather proud. I think we all should give him some time alone. By all means go up in a bit, Molly - just not right now.”

She hesitated, and then stepped away. “Oh, alright,” she said crossly, picking up the used cups and taking them over to the sink, and banging them down loudly before turning to face her children. “But if I hear any of you saying anything insensitive to Harry, anything that might imply you think it’s his fault…”

“We wouldn’t say that, mum!” said George indignantly. “We don’t think it’s his fault at all! The stupid git…he’s always so bloody _noble_ …”

Snape gave a small cough at this and looked up at the ceiling. Remus took a step forwards straight away. “Something you want to say, Severus?” he said loudly, his face uncharacteristically harsh.

Snape raised his eyebrows. “Not at all, Lupin. I was merely clearing my throat.” He seemed rather amused by the glares he was getting from most of the room. Dumbledore stood back up, and gestured to Snape and Professor McGonagall.

“I think it’s time to leave. Keep me posted on events, please. And Molly, please tell Harry…tell him that we will meet as soon as term starts.” Mrs Weasley nodded, twisting her apron around her fingers nervously. She wondered what Harry was doing upstairs…what he was thinking. Her heart burned for him; how could anyone have suffered so much and blame it on themselves? How could anyone be so strong, so kind, so noble, and yet be so misguided…so unbelievably _stupid_?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Avada Kedavra

  


15

 

Harry lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It had been almost a week since the attack, but he still couldn’t get the visions of dead Percy out of his head. He thought back to last year when Mrs Weasley had been dealing with a boggart, and realised with a shameful jolt that he had forced her to live out the thing she was most terrified of. She had come up to see him a few hours after Ron brought the list down, and tried her best to comfort Harry. She’d told him that no-one blamed him at all, for anything. She held him and told him that she loved him and he wasn’t alone in this. Harry still thought that it was his fault, but he appreciated it nonetheless, and let her think that she had swayed his thinking; it was what she wanted. Harry knew that they were all worried about him and so he had done his level best to act like nothing was wrong. After the initial awkwardness the next day he made everyone think he was fine, and tried to act cheery, especially when either Remus or Mrs Weasley were watching him. But it changed nothing - Harry did feel like it was his fault, and the only way he could eradicate the situation happening too often was to get rid of Voldemort sooner than he’d planned. To accomplish that, he’d need to do more training.

“Moody!” Harry panted as he ran down the stairs, two days after the attack. 

“Yes, Potter?” Moody growled, stumping into the kitchen.

“Can I ask you a favour?” Harry said, following him in.

“I’m sure you can.”

“Can you help me train? I mean, not on your own…Tonks is focussing mainly on fitness and strength, Kingsley’s mainly doing wandless and non-verbal magic…so d’you think you can teach me more duelling stuff? Like defensive curses and…and offensive ones too.” 

 

Moody turned to look at Harry, and then grunted. “Aye, I’m sure I can do that.” His magical eye swivelled manically, looking Harry up and down. “Can you do the killing curse, Potter?” he barked suddenly.

“I dunno,” Harry said in surprise. “I mean, I’ve never tried it.”

Moody gave a sudden roar of laughter. “And I should hope not! Here…there’s a fly on the wall. Try and kill it.”

“Alastor, I really don’t think…” Mrs Weasley began, hurrying over to the two of them. “He’s just a child!”

“No, I’m not!” Harry said indignantly. 

“Molly,” said Moody, in a slightly patronising manner. “Potter has to kill You-Know-Who. How do you think he’s going to manage that? Send a jelly-legs jinx his way?”

“I…well…just be careful,” she said anxiously, sitting down at the table next to Mr Weasley, who was eating his dinner.

“Right, Potter,” said Moody, looking at him expectantly. “Go on then.”

“Won’t…er, won’t the Ministry detect it? I mean, they did the other night…when I did the Cruciatus curse.” 

Moody shook his head. “That’s because we alerted them to what was happening and they were monitoring it. They don’t know unless they‘re watching. Anyway, you’re quite in favour with the Ministry at the moment, Potter. Being the Chosen One, and all that. They want to stay on the right side of you. Off you go, then!”

Harry drew out his wand apprehensively, looking at the fly. He didn’t really want to kill it, to be honest. It wasn’t doing anyone any harm; it was just sitting there. Harry knew deep down that it wasn’t about the fly…it was about the fact that he didn’t want to be a killer. 

“I don’t want to do,” he said quietly, lowering his wand slightly. Moody growled.

“Of course you don’t want to do it! Most sane people don’t! But you _have_ to…you know that as well as I do.”

“But…it’s just a fly,” Harry said lamely.

“Would you rather practice on Mrs Weasley here, then?” Moody asked pointedly. “You’re right, it is just a fly. But how can you expect to kill a man if you cant even kill a fly?”

“Alastor, really…if he doesn’t want to then you shouldn’t -”

“No, Mrs Weasley, it’s fine,” Harry interrupted. “I’ll do it.” He pointed his wand at the fly and took a deep breath. “Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green light shot from his wand and hit the fly, but it simply slipped down the wall a few inches, as though momentarily stunned, and then resumed its climbing. Harry looked at Moody.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to be able to do it first time, boy! There’s not that many wizards who can actually kill someone with that curse, you know. Dumbledore can’t do it,” he added, as an afterthought.

“Dumbledore can’t do it?” Harry asked in horror. He suddenly remembered how Dumbledore had never sent killing curses at Voldemort that night in the Ministry, and his heart sank. “Then how the hell am I supposed to be able to learn it if he can’t?”

“Well, I suspect, Potter,” began Moody slowly, “that you have far more hate in you than he does. Far more anger, pain…rage. That’s what you need to do it. You have to direct all your hate, all your anger at that person…you have to really _want_ them dead. And I don’t think Dumbledore has that. See what I’m saying?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah. So, er…how am I meant to kill this fly then? I mean, I don’t hate it, I don’t want it dead.”

“Use your brain, Potter. Pretend you do! Visualise someone else: You-Know-Who, Bellatrix Lestrange…whoever it is you hate the most. Professor Snape,” he added with a wry chuckle. Harry grinned. He looked at the fly for a second, and then closed his eyes.

He thought of Mrs Weasley’s face when she was sobbing over Percy’s body…he thought of Sirius, flying through the veil, and Bellatrix’s taunts…he thought of Neville’s pain and embarrassment when he was visiting his parents at St Mungo’s…he thought of Cedric, who’d done nothing wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time…he thought of his parents, of his mother’s scream, his father’s shouts, as they lay down their lives for him. He thought of the high, cold laugh that Voldemort had given as he killed Harry’s parents, as he ended their lives. Harry’s eyes snapped open.

“Avada Kedavra!” he hissed, and again the jet of green light hit the fly. This time it dropped to the floor at once, a small scorch mark on the wall where it had sat. Harry lowered his wand, staring at the burn mark.

“That was very impressive, Potter,” Moody said in a low voice, looking at Harry strangely, although he certainly didn’t sound impressed. “I wasn’t expecting you to get it that easily at all. Strange…” His voice tailed off, and Harry felt very uncomfortable.

“That’s enough for today!” Mrs Weasley said in a trembling voice, hurrying over to them. Her looked strangely pale and shaken. She gripped Harry’s arm firmly. “Off you go to bed now, Harry!” she said, although it was only eight o’clock. Harry went up the stairs obediently, but stopped as he heard Mrs Weasley’s voice.

“…don’t know what you were thinking, Alastor! I’m sure Albus wouldn’t be pleased if he knew about this…you know what he thinks about exposing Harry to…certain areas of magic…”

“Alastor was right though, Molly. Harry _does_ have to learn this,” came Mr Weasley’s voice.

“But not like this! I thought for a moment…when he…” Mrs Weasley’s voice stopped abruptly.

“Aha, did you notice too, Molly?” came Moody’s voice eagerly.

“Notice what?” Mr Weasley asked.

“His voice…when he said it…reminded me of You-Know-Who,” Moody stated.

“But…Molly doesn’t know what You-Know-Who sounds like…do you, dear?”

“No, of course not!” Mrs Weasley sounded very flustered. “Although I did notice it sounded different…no, it was his eyes…they looked….strange. They didn’t look like how they usually do…something…different…was behind them.” There was a pause. “Oh, I’m probably being silly. It was nothing. Do you want seconds, Arthur dear? There’s plenty of potatoes left.”

Harry stood on the stairs for a few moments longer, and then walked slowly up to his bedroom. What on earth did that all mean?

 

For the rest of the holiday Harry threw himself into his training. He woke up at six everyday in order to do a two hour run in one of the downstairs rooms; it wasn’t deemed safe for Harry to go outside so Kingsley had charmed part of the floor of the room to move, rather like a very large Muggle treadmill. When he’d finished that at eight o’clock, he’d move onto weights and endurance tests set by Tonks, often involving her shooting hex after hex at him while he attempted to roll, dodge and jump them. After two hours of this Harry was allowed an hours break where had a much needed shower and some breakfast, and then went straight into practising wandless and non-verbal magic with Kingsley. He was progressing alarmingly fast at this, especially with wandless magic. He could tell Kingsley was surprised and rather pleased, although usually he tried to hide it. At two o’clock he had another hours break for some lunch, after which he practiced duelling and curses with Moody until seven o‘clock. This was his favourite part of training, because the more he learnt the more his confidence grew. His shield was completely indestructible now; even when Moody, Tonks and Kingsley teamed up and shot stunning hexes at him simultaneously his shield remained intact, shooting the jinx back to the three Aurors with such strength that they were forced to drop to their feet in order to avoid it. Sometimes Ron, Ginny and Hermione would come in and watch while Moody taught him, although Harry didn’t always like this; he found Ginny’s presence rather a distraction.

The day before they went back to Hogwarts, Harry was practising with Moody when Ron, Ginny and Hermione walked in, followed by Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Fred, George, Charlie and Mr and Mrs Weasley. Harry started at once.

“What’s happened? Has there been another attack?” he said quickly.

“No, dear, don’t worry,” said Mrs Weasley, smiling at him. “It’s just that you’re going tomorrow and we all wanted to see what you’ve been up to for these last few week.”

“Yeah, we want to see those newly bulging muscles in action!” said Tonks with a grin. She laughed. “Aw, he’s gone all red! I love teasing Harry about him being all buff now…look how embarrassed he gets!”

“Shut up, Tonks,” Harry muttered, feeling the heat rise in his face. Everyone laughed.

“Yes, you are looking much broader, Harry,” Hermione said calmly. “Especially around here.” She gestured to her shoulders and arms.

“Why are you looking at that, Hermione?” Ron said sharply. “ You shouldn’t be looking!”

“I can look at if I want! It’s only his chest!” Hermione replied indignantly.

“You shouldn’t be looking at his chest! It’s private!”

“What, you’re saying you’ve never looked at my chest?” Hermione snapped. Then she paused, her cheeks turning bright pink. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered, looking mortified whilst everyone else laughed, except Ron, who had gone just as pink as Hermione. 

“Well, as everyone’s here and it’s your last day, what about a good old fashioned duel, Potter?” Moody said with a grin. Harry stared.

“I’m not going to duel you with everyone here!” he said in surprise. “You’ll wipe the floor with me!”

“Where’s that Gryffindor courage, Potter?” growled Moody. “You can’t always duel someone poorer than yourself. I doubt You-Know-Who is an amateur at duelling!”

“Yeah, but…they won’t all be watching when I duel him,” Harry muttered, gesturing at the large crowd.

“We might be,” Charlie pointed out. “You might have to kill him, but we’re hardly going to let you run off and deal with him all by yourself!”

Harry’s nerves were obviously showing, because Moody attempted to mollify him. “Come on, Potter. You’re a damn good dueller, you know that. After these few weeks you’re probably up there in the best I’ve ever fought. Don’t give me that look, it’s the truth. I may have more experience and knowledge, but you’ve got qualities I haven’t.”

“Like what?” Harry said sceptically.

Moody rolled his magical eye. “Like youth, Potter. Agility. Speed. I can’t do much with this damn leg, can I?” he said, tapping his wooden leg with his wand. “And you’re probably one of the most determined people I’ve ever met. Damn right pig-headed, you are. Come on…wands out, and bow!”

As Harry leaned up from his bow Moody shot a quick disarming jinx at him, and Harry’s wand sailed into his hand. “Ha! You’re dead already, Potter!”

“Hey! That’s not fair…I wasn’t ready!” Harry said indignantly, trying to ignore Fred and George’s sniggers.

“But you should have been! Hey? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, tossing Harry back his wand.

“Yes, I know,” Harry said heavily, catching it one-handed. “Just let me finish my bow next time!”

They bowed again, and circled each other slowly, Moody’s wooden leg clumping on the floor.

“This should be interesting,” Harry heard Tonks murmur to Lupin.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, going on the offence. Moody blocked it easily, raising his shield and forcing Harry to duck.

“Stupefy!” growled Moody, but Harry dodged it easily, sending back a leg-locker curse. Moody blocked it smoothly, but Harry raised his wand again.

“Tarantallegra!” he yelled, but Moody ducked it with surprising dexterity. 

“Impedimenta!” he growled, sending the blasting curse at Harry with such strength that it actually ruffled Harry’s hair. He raised his shield quickly and wordlessly, concentrating hard. To his amazement he saw that his shield was, for the very first time, visible. It was gold, and curved around Harry, protecting him. It was very similar to the one Dumbledore had produced against Voldemort at the Ministry. He heard a few “ooohs!” from his crowd but ignored them, flicking up his shield again as Moody sent another stunning hex at him.

“Petrificus Totalus!” he yelled, but Moody blocked that too, sending a second blasting jinx at him, which he dodged. So, they were playing dirty, were they? Harry pointed his wand and yelled “Diffindo!”, but Moody’s quick shield send the severing curse right back at him. He dropped to the floor, and rolled quickly just as another stunning spell hit the place where his head had been a split-second before. He jumped to his feet, his eyes narrowed.

“Imperio!” shouted Moody, and Harry heard the crowd gasp at his use of an Unforgivable curse.In Harry’s shock he let his reflexes down, and the curse hit him square in the chest. The voices started:

__

Snap your wand, Potter.

__

No, the rational voice said calmly, I don’t think I will.

__

Just snap it - it’s easy.

__

I’m sure it is. But I like my wand. I don’t want to snap it.

__

Just place it over your knee and snap it. You can do it…

__

I know I can…but I don’t think I want to, thank you very much.

With a grunt of concentration Harry shook the curse off, registering the surprise in Moody’s eyes. Of course; it had been the fake-Moody who knew his aptitude for resisting the Imperious curse.

“Incarcio!” Harry yelled quickly, and the bottom of Moody’s robes caught fire. Moody quickly muttered “Aquamenti!” and water issued from his wand, putting out the fire. Harry seized his chance to disarm, and yelled “Expelliarmus!”, and Moody’s wand sailed into Harry’s outstretched hand. There was a short silence and then the room broke out in tumultuous applause. Moody’s face creased into a smile as Harry threw him back his wand, unable to believe he had beaten Moody in a duel. Suddenly, Moody aimed his wand at Harry again.

“Expelliarmus!” he growled, and this time it was Harry’s wand who glided through the air until Moody grabbed it.

“Hey!” Harry protested. “We’d finished!”

“No, Potter, we hadn’t! We finish when one of us is stunned! If I was a Death Eater, I wouldn’t play fair, would I? I’d run at you, knock you over. You have to immobilise them! Like so…Stupefy!” Harry threw himself to the floor, and rolled to his left, and then his right, as Moody sent two more stunning spells at him. Moody laughed. “Come on, Potter! Give up! You can’t dodge forever, you know!” 

Harry jumped to his feet, and without knowing quite why, held out his right arm and shouted “Accio wand!”. His wand flew from Moody’s hand and into his own, and with a flick of it, Moody’s own wand was sailing into Harry’s left hand. He looked at Moody for a second. “So, er…I have to immobilise you, right?” he asked levelly. A grin split Moody’s face, and Harry returned it. “Stupefy,” he said calmly, and Moody fell to the floor, stunned.

The cheering started up again, and Harry felt Remus clap him on the back delightedly.

“Well done, Harry, that was brilliant!” 

“Oh Harry, why didn’t you tell me you were so good at wandless magic?” Hermione said, hugging him tightly. “Will you teach me, Harry?”

“Er…okay,” Harry said with a grin, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Fred, George and Charlie were all shaking his hand, big grins on their faces.

“Harry, mate…your shield! We could see it!” Ron said in obvious awe.

“That only happens if it’s an exceptionally strong shield!” Hermione said excitedly. “I read about it…oh, Harry, you must be really powerful!”

“Er…” Harry said, feeling rather embarrassed.

“Of course he is, that’s why he’s the Chosen One,” Ginny said with a smile. “Knew you could do it, Harry. Well done.” She gave Harry a big hug and he felt himself go even redder. 

“Harry, that was great! I‘ve never seen anyone progress as fast!” Kingsley said warmly, walking over and shaking Harry’s hand. “But, er…maybe we should wake Moody up now. He wont want to miss all the celebrations.” 

Moody, it turned out, did not; he congratulated Harry sincerely, and was particularly impressed with his wandless summoning charm. “That will get you out of many a difficult spot, mark my words, Potter,” he growled.

As Harry went to bed that night he felt very pleased with himself. But there was also a nagging thought that had been flickering around in his head ever since he’d heard what Moody and Mrs Weasley had said after he’d killed the fly. He _had_ progressed amazingly the last few weeks, and he _had_ displayed extraordinary raw magical power for a sixteen year old boy. But, he thought that night, as he tossed and turned fitfully in his bed, how had this all happened? Where had all this magic suddenly come from? And was this power actually really his own? 


	16. Revelations

  
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16

****

Harry stumbled out of the fire place in Professor McGonagall’s office, coughing on some ash that had gone up his nose.

“Good day, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said calmly, looking up from her work and giving him an appraising glance, a more concerned look on her face than Harry was used to. He smiled back uncomfortably, aware that she was probably thinking of the list he’d made and feeling sorry for him.

“Hello Professor,” he replied, trying to sound upbeat.

“The Headmaster would like to see you in his office, Potter,” she said, returning to her marking. 

“Er…now?” Harry asked, trying to brush ash off his robes. Professor McGonagall gave him a disdainful look as some of it fell onto her carpet.

“I’m sure you can take your trunk back to your dormitory and clean yourself up beforehand,” she said coolly.

Harry dropped his trunk on his bed and tried to flatten his hair before walking quickly to Dumbledore’s office.

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” he said to the statue, and it swung open. He climbed up the stairs and knocked, entering when he heard Dumbledore’s voice. The Headmaster beamed at him as he came in, and gestured for Harry to take the seat at the other side of his desk.

“Hello Harry, how are you?” he asked jovially.

“Fine, sir,” Harry answered.

“I hear your duelling is coming along marvellously. Alastor told me that you managed to beat him!”

“Er…yeah,” Harry said awkwardly. “But I think a lot of it was down to luck.”

“Nonsense Harry! You are always too modest, in my opinion. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of a boast now and then!”

Harry grinned self-consciously.

“Now,” Dumbledore said, the smile fading from his face. “Alastor also told me that you managed to perform the killing curse. On your second attempt.” He looked at Harry rather intently and Harry felt very uncomfortable.

“Yes, sir.”

“Harry, when you attempted , and failed, to use the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange last year at the Ministry, what actually happened?”

“Er…” Harry said, slightly thrown by this abrupt change in topic. “Well, um…I said it and she was kind of knocked off her feet, but she didn’t cry out or anything…it didn’t actually work.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, resting his fingers together in his familiar pose. “And when you attempted it over Christmas, you were able to do it at once?”

“Er…yeah,” said Harry.

“How did you feel when you doing it?”

“Erm…I dunno,” said Harry, twisting his fingers together nervously. Dumbledore shook his head.

“Of course you know, Harry. There’s no right or wrong answer to this. You’re not in any trouble. I am merely curious as to how you felt.”

“Well,” said Harry slowly, “I hate her…for what she’s done to me…to the Weasley’s…to Neville…”

“Quite understandable, Harry. Go on.”

“So…after she killed Percy, I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to suffer like we’d suffered. So…I suppose it felt…good.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry intently. “Interesting. And how did you feel when you performed the killing curse?”

Harry blinked. He had an inkling of where Dumbledore was going with this and didn’t like it. “I didn’t enjoy it, sir, if that’s what you mean,” he said, rather sharply,

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Dumbledore replied. “It’s just curious.”

“Why? Why is it curious? Sir?”

Dumbledore paused for a few moments, and then spoke rather slowly. “Well Harry, I don’t know if Alastor told you, but the number of people who can actually successful perform the torture curse and the killing curse is probably far less than you think. I, myself, am unable to perform it.”

“Have you tried then, sir?” asked Harry in surprise. He couldn’t picture Dumbledore trying to torture or kill anyone, The Headmaster smiled slightly.

“No, Harry, I haven’t. But I still know I can not do it if I ever wanted to.”

“Okay, well…” Harry felt rather confused. “I mean, if I can, wouldn’t that be just another thing I’ve gained from Voldemort? You know, like Parseltongue and stuff. Wouldn’t that just be another…ability….that I’ve gotten from him?”

“Perhaps. But what I find most interesting is the fact that you could not perform the curse last year, after Sirius died.”

“Well…maybe I was just angrier this time…maybe I meant it more this time, I dunno.” 

Dumbledore looked rather sceptical. “The death of Percy Weasley caused more anger and intent to cause pain than the death of Sirius?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it was just…maybe it took time to sink in. I mean, what other explanations are there?”

“There is the possibility that it is a…new…ability.”

Harry looked at him. “D’you mean…I don’t understand, sir.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Nor I, Harry. Perhaps you should keep an eye on any other new abilities you may gain.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry answered, not really sure what Dumbledore seemed so worried about.

“Now, Harry. There are two things I would like to talk to you about. The first is that list that Mr Ronald Weasley brought down --”

“Please, sir, I really don’t want to talk about that,” Harry interrupted quickly. “It really…it doesn’t matter.”

Dumbledore frowned. “It matters greatly, Harry. For you to even dream of taking responsibility for these deaths is ridiculous. You need to understand that --”

“Please, sir,” Harry interjected again. “It doesn’t matter what you say. I understand what you’re saying, and everyone else - Remus, Mrs Weasley, Ron, Hermione - they’ve all told me the same. But it doesn’t change anything. Whatever you say, it’s not going to change the fact that I _do_ think it’s my fault. Not one hundred percent,” he added hurriedly, seeing the look on Dumbledore’s face, “I know other people played parts too; Voldemort, Bellatrix… _Snape_. But just…let me feel this. It…gives me more reasons…to push myself, to fight. I feel like…if can do it, if I can kill him…it’ll be okay. It wont be my fault anymore.”

Dumbledore looked at him. “I cant change the way you feel, Harry,” he said sadly. “But you understand that no-one - not one of use - thinks for one second that any of this is your fault.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Right. The second thing I wanted to talk to you about, Harry, is how to defeat Voldemort. You asked me in September, if you remember, and I told you I would tell you when the time was right.”

Harry nodded again. “Yes, sir. So how do I do it then? With the killing curse?”

“There are other ways to kill a man, Harry.”

“I know, sir. Just…I thought, seeing as I _can_ do it…but what way d’you think I should do it?”

“You misunderstand me, Harry. When you do come to killing him, by all means try and use the killing curse, or whatever curse you see fit. But first, there are…obstacles.”

“What d’you mean, sir?” Harry asked, sitting forward.

“Harry, have you ever heard of a horcrux?” Harry shook his head. “Well, a horcrux is made when a wizard decides to split his soul by committing a terrible sin - murder. When the soul is split, one part still resides in his body, and the other part is hidden in an object, usually an inanimate one. This means that the wizard is, to an extent, immortal. Even if his body is destroyed, there is still the other part residing in the object. He is still in a way, alive.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore in horror. “And…and that’s what Voldemort did? Why haven’t I heard of this before?”

“Horcruxes are very rarely spoken of. They are a very prohibited subject, and most wizards have no idea that they exist. Voldemort most definitely split his soul. This would explain why he failed to die that night when you were a baby.”

“So…I have to find the horcrux and destroy it before Voldemort can die?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said simply. “But you do not realise, Harry, that you have already destroyed one.”

“I have? When?”

“Riddle’s diary. No diary can have a memory that can think for itself like that. That was most definitely a horcrux.”

“But it’s gone! So…wait…you said I’ve destroyed _one_? Does that mean, then…that there’s more than one?” 

Dumbledore suddenly looked very old. “I fear, Harry, that Voldemort split his soul not once, but seven times.”

“ _Seven_?” Harry echoed in disbelief. “ _Seven_?”

“Yes. I’m glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of this problem. However, I have destroyed another two, which leaves four more, the fourth residing in Voldemort’s body. So there are three more objects we need to find, and destroy, before you can actually kill him.”

Harry shook his head in amazement. “What were the other horcruxes, sir?”

“If you look on this table, Harry…see the ring, and the cup? They were both horcruxes, but now they are merely what they seem to be. The diary, of course, was left in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, but it matters not - it is, after all, just a diary now.”

“So…d’you know where the other horcruxes are then, sir?”

“I have ideas, Harry. You are aware of his…for want of a better word…pet snake, Nagini?”

“Yeah, yeah. But…a snake cant be a horcrux? Not a living creature?”

Dumbledore bowed his head. “Indeed it is possible Harry - perhaps not advisable, but I am certain that within his snake is a seventh of Voldemort’s soul. As for the other two…well, I have garnered enough information to state with certainty that another part is hidden in a locket. Slytherin’s locket, to be exact. I am yet to find out where it is, but I am confident that we can find it.”

“Sir…” said Harry slowly, “sir, at Grimmauld Place last year, there was a locket. It was really old looking…gold…and we couldn’t open it. D’you think that might be…” 

Dumbledore looked interested. “Indeed it might, Harry. The House of Black is a very old wizarding family and they all - with a few exceptions, Sirius included - were in Slytherin. Yes, I will indeed look into that, and tell you what I find.”

“Right. So, what about the last horcrux then?”

Dumbledore looked at Harry very closely. “The cup on the table over there, Harry, is Hufflepuff’s cup. The ring sitting next to it is the ring of Ravenclaw. The locket, if it is a horcrux, is Slytherin’s locket. Can you guess what the last one might be?”

“Something of Gryffindor?”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “Yes. Something of Gryffindor. Although…I cannot think what. The only known relic of Gryffindor is in this office…the sword on the wall behind me. I am fairly certain that it is not a horcrux.”

“So…?”

“We will have to save that one for last, Harry,” Dumbledore said, still looking at Harry intently, his face very troubled. His eyes flickered over Harry’s face, resting for a second on his scar. Then, with great effort, he looked away. “I think I have given you enough to think about, Harry. Perhaps it is time for you to rejoin your friends in the Common Room. But please do not tell anyone about this just yet…it will not do for Voldemort to find out what we are doing. You can of course inform your trusted sidekicks, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, but please wait a while. Just until I‘ve have assessed the locket at Grimmauld Place.”

“Of course, sir,” said Harry, standing up. As he walked slowly back to the Common Room he played over everything Dumbledore had told him. Harry shook his head in disbelief. He split his soul seven times. Seven times. The strangest thing was, was that it was not this fact that bothered Harry the most: it was the way Dumbledore had stared at him when he found out Harry could perform the killing curse; it was the way his eyes had seemed so troubled as they looked at him; it was the way his gaze had lingered over Harry’s scar.

 

“You alright, Harry?” Ron asked, as Harry sat down rather heavily next to him. “What did Dumbledore want to talk about?”

“Oh, er…nothing really. Just, you know, what happened over Christmas, how my training’s going…” Ron nodded in acceptance, but Hermione was looking at him sceptically, as though she knew he was hiding something. Harry tried to look innocent. “Where’s Ginny?”

“Outside with Dean. Think she’s breaking up with him,” Ron grunted. Harry sat up straight. “What? Really? Why?” He saw the smirk spread over Hermione’s face and tried to seem less interested. “I mean…oh, is she?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, not noticing Harry’s keen interest. “She said he was just annoying her or something. I think she’s bored.”

“No, that’s not it, Ron,” Hermione said, her large brown eyes boring into Harry’s. “It’s because she likes someone else,” she said deliberately, smiling faintly. Harry felt himself go red. “Oh look, there’s Dean!” Hermione pointed out. Sure enough, Dean walked through the portrait hole looking thoroughly miserable, ignoring them and walking straight up to the boys’ dormitories. Ginny walked in a few minutes later, looking rather fed up. She sat down next to the three.

“Well, I did it,” she said quietly, running a hand through her hair and looking at her knees.

“And how did he take it?” Hermione asked kindly.

“Not very well,” Ginny sighed. “But what can you do?”

“Oi, Ginny, Hermione says you dumped Dean because you like someone else…who’s that then?” Ron asked bluntly.

Ginny blushed slightly. “That’s not really your concern, is it Ronald?”

“Of course it is! I have a right to know who your next boyfriend is!”

“I never said he was going to be my next boyfriend, did I Ron?” she said coolly.

“Oh. Isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that depends on him.” She looked up slightly and her eyes met Harry’s. They both blushed furiously. Ginny got up quickly. “Anyway, I have to finish…er, my Charms essay. See you later.” She hurried upstairs.

“I don’t like this boyfriend thing,” Ron said grimly. “Hey, what’s the matter Harry? Your face has gone all red.”

“Oh…I’m just…really hot. I’m just going to go for a walk,” Harry said quickly, jumping up. Hermione sniggered.


	17. The Romance Reflex

  
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17

****

 

Although Harry was overjoyed that Ginny was no longer with Dean, his mind was often elsewhere that next week. Horcruxes, of course, were always on his mind, but there were some strange changes coming over Harry that he found very peculiar. He knew that as a result of his intensive training his magical skills would progress, but he wasn’t prepared for the extent that it was happening. He was producing wandless and non-verbal magic very regularly, and usually it was without consciously trying to. He first noticed it one morning when he sat down at breakfast, and was about to pour himself some pumpkin juice. Neville reached for it first, but his elbow knocked the jug and it dropped to the floor, its contents about to spill. Harry shot out a hand and without saying anything, without even making any effort, the jug flew up into his hand, not a single drop being split.

“Wow, Harry, how’d you do that!” Neville exclaimed in admiration.

“I have no idea,” Harry said, slightly dazed.

His Seeker’s reflexes, which had always been good, were suddenly phenomenal. He found that when he was practising Quidditch he could catch the snitch in record time, and he had a strange, sixth sense-like awareness of when bludger was heading his way. Apart from Neville, no-one else seemed to notice it at first, but as their lessons became more demanding, it was far more noticeable. Harry was excelling at Charms; Professor Flitwick was delighted with him, calling him to the front of the class to perform many spells that everyone else found hard. Ron found that rather amusing, but Hermione seemed quite disgruntled. Professor McGonagall noticed too. They were attempting to turn a large bowl of water into solid metal, which everyone was finding very difficult; turning liquids into solids was renown to be very tricky. They were taking it in turns alphabetically, and Hermione had seemed to make the most progress, her water thickening into a jelly-like consistency.

“Excellent first attempt, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall praised warmly, and Hermione beamed. When it was Harry’s turn, however, he simply waved his wand and muttered the incantation, and his water immediately turned a brownish shade and hardened. Professor McGonagall stared, and then tapped the metal. “It’s copper,” she said in amazement. “Well done, Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor. Do you think you can change it back?” Harry waved his wand again, and the metal at once liquefied back into water. Professor McGonagall stared at the water, and then at Harry. “Well done,” she said again, although Harry caught her giving him some strange looks when she thought he wasn’t looking.

The same thing happened in every lesson Harry had. Hermione was becoming more and more annoyed as Harry was asked to demonstrate the correct techniques, and she wasn’t. She’d asked Harry how he had suddenly gotten so good, and he had told her honestly that he didn’t know. It was particularly obvious in Defence Against the Dark Arts, much to Snape’s dismay. Dumbledore had asked Harry to reconsider attending his lessons, as apparently Snape had agreed to give Harry one last chance, provided Harry didn’t put a foot out of line. In Harry’s mind, he was giving Snape one more chance and, after much persuasion from Hermione, he agreed to rejoin. For this particular lesson they had been told to try and summon their wands from where they were placed on Snape’s desk across the room. Summoning charms were hard enough anyway - it had taken Harry hours to master it in his fourth year - and to do it without a wand was very difficult. They lined up against the wall on the other side of the classroom, and when Snape called their names they stepped forward and tried to summon it. Hermione was one of the first to show any sign of managing it.

“Accio wand!” she said, holding out her hand. Her wand twitched and rolled off the desk a few feet. Snape sneered.

“A pathetic effort, but better than the dismal attempts prior to this.” His eyes rested on Harry and his sneer deepened. “Potter, your turn.” Harry stepped calmly up to the line.

“Accio wand!” he said, and his wand at once sprang up and sailed across the room, straight into his had. The class broke out in applause, and Snape looked surprised for a minute, before the sneer spread over his face again.

“Very good, Potter. Seeing as you are so confident, perhaps you’d like to attempt doing it silently, too?” he asked, taking Harry’s wand from him and placing it back on his desk. Harry shrugged. 

“Okay.” He walked back to the line and held up his hand. He closed his eyes briefly and thought “Accio!”, and sure enough, his wand jumped up, glided across the room and into his outstretched hand. Snape, obviously not finding anything derogatory to say, simply proceeded to the next student.

The third weekend of term was the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which the whole school was watching; the rivalry between the two houses, and the fact that Slytherin were the biggest threat to Gryffindor meant that it was sure to be a good match.

“Good luck Ron, Harry, Ginny!” Hermione called, winding a Gryffindor scarf around her neck and hurrying to fid a seat.

“You nervous, Harry?” Ginny asked, as the team stood in the tunnel, waiting to fly onto the pitch.

“No,” Harry replied honestly, thinking it was slightly strange that there were none of the usual butterflies in his stomach. 

“I am,” Ron said shakily.

“No surprises there,” Ginny muttered. “Come on, there’s the whistle, let’s go.”

They flew onto the pitch to riotous applause. Harry felt the wind ruffle through his hair and relaxed, holding onto his Firebolt loosely.

“ _Here’s the Gryffindor team led by captain Harry Potter, also known as the Chosen One…but will that help him here?_ ” The pompous voice of Ernie Macmillan thundered through the stadium, and Harry realised he was the commentator. He grinned, unsure why he felt so happy, so tranquil. 

“Teams, take your positions!” Madam Hooch shouted.

“Good luck, Potter,” came a familiar drawl, and Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy hovering next to him. “You’re going to need it.”

Harry said nothing, and took his position. Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and they were off. Harry soared up to the top off the stadium, his eyes scanning the pitch. For some reason his eyes were blurry. He took off his glasses to polish them on his robes, and blinked. He held the glasses up to his eyes again, and then took them away. He didn’t need them. His eyesight was crystal clear without them; he could see every face in the stands below vividly - he could even make out Dumbledore’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he looked up at Harry. Harry flashed a smile at the Headmaster, stowing his glasses in his pocket. He turned his head to the right, and then he saw it. The snitch was fluttering about a hundred metres below him, a foot above the ground. Flattening himself to his broom, Harry soared down, the wind making his eyes water. Malfoy saw Harry dive and hurried after him, but he was no match for Harry. The ground sped towards him; he was so close he could see every blade of grass, he stretched out his hand… 

“ _And Harry Potter catches the snitch! That must be a record - twenty-seven seconds! What a brilliant wronksi feint! I’ve never seen anything like it_!” Ernie’s voce echoed over the screams and cheers of the Gryffindors. “ _And yes, Professor McGonagall has just informed that it is indeed a record for fastest catch at Hogwarts - what a game for Harry Potter!”_

Harry grinned, holding the snitch triumphantly in his hand as his team-mates piled on him.

“Harry that was brilliant!” Ginny cried, flinging her arms around him. Harry hugged her tightly back, but let go quickly when he saw Ron watching. He landed smoothly, unaware that he was being watched very carefully by Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

“Albus, have you noticed anything strange about Potter?”

“Strange? What do you mean, Minerva?” Dumbledore replied carefully.

“Well, it’s just in my lessons he’s so…well, he’s so _good_! I’ve never seen anything like it from a seventh-year, let alone a sixth-year! I am aware that he’s doing extra training, but surely that would not result in him progressing this fast, would it?”

“No, I don’t think it would Minerva. I’ve been waiting for someone to bring this to my attention. I don’t think the fact that he caught the snitch so quickly either is a coincidence.”

“I notice he’s not wearing his glasses anymore, either. Is he wearing those Muggle lens things?”

“No, he is not. I think his eyes have just…improved.”

“But that cant just happen like that!”

“You’re right…it cannot.”

“Albus…you don’t think he might be…ill? Only I’ve read about some illnesses which encourage all magic in a person to accelerate alarmingly fast to their full potential, and after a short while there is a slump, often resulting in permanent loss of magical powers!” 

There was a short silence as they watched Harry for a while, the crowd filing back up to the castle. The stadium was emptying quickly, and the team were warming down. After finishing a stretch Harry stood up and pulled his Quidditch jersey over his head, about to change into a clean one. His exposed torso was surprisingly robust and muscular; very different from the more lean, wiry shape he’d had a few months ago. 

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle. “No, Minerva, I don’t think he’s ill.”

As Harry pulled his clean jersey over his head, he didn’t see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle creep up from behind him, about fifteen metres away, a beater bat in Goyle’s hand and a bludger in Crabbe’s. Malfoy nodded slyly and his henchmen took aim. Ginny turned her head in time to see Goyle hit the bludger hard at Harry, but she was far too late to shout out a warning. Malfoy had obviously put some silencing charm on the bat, for it made no sound as it hit the bludger. As Ginny and Professor McGonagall watched in horror, the ball sped towards the back of Harry’s head. Suddenly, without warning, without even knowing why he did so, Harry spun around and ducked, shooting out an arm and catching the spinning bludger. He looked at it for a few seconds, and they looked up to meet Malfoy’s gaze, his face expressionless. Malfoy stared in surprise for a few moments and then sneered.

“Lucky escape there, Potter. Good thing Weasel’s sister was there to warn you.”

“I didn’t warn him, Malfoy,” Ginny said coldly. “Perhaps if you spent longer training instead of cheating, your reflexes might be that good. But I doubt it.”

Malfoy’s face darkened and he pulled out his wand, quickly shooting a hex at Ginny before she’d even had time to pull hers from her robes. But he has forgotten Harry. Harry had drawn his wand the second he’d seen Malfoy’s fingers twitch towards his robes, and without speaking had produced a shield that covered both he and Ginny. It was so strong that it was not only visible, but it actually produced its own breeze, a gust of magic that swept through the stadium, ruffling the remaining people’s hair. Professor McGonagall gasped, but Dumbledore remained silent, watching carefully.

“I’d put your wand away if I were you, Malfoy,” Harry said calmly, his face still impassive. Malfoy looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Ten points from Slytherin Mr Malfoy!” said Professor McGonagall angrily, hurrying down from the deserted stands. “Completely unprovoked bludger attack! Thank goodness Potter had the sense to duck, you could have done serious damage! Up to the castle, now!”

Malfoy scowled, but swaggered away, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. The look of surprise was still on his face. McGonagall turned to Harry. She seemed slightly lost for words.

“Well, Potter. Good game,” she managed, hurrying away again towards Dumbledore.

“What’s up with her?” muttered Ginny, as they walked up to the castle.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged.

“Well, thanks for your shield anyway, Harry. That was a pretty impressive piece of magic just there.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a small smile. He felt very strange, very removed from everything, as if he were merely an onlooker, observing his life from someone else’s point of view. He felt stronger, more confident somehow. It was this strange sense of confidence that made him turn suddenly to face Ginny. “Why did you break up with Dean, Ginny?” 

She blushed. “Just…you know…it didn’t really work out.”

“Hermione said it was because you liked someone else,” Harry said steadily. Ginny said nothing, but turned even redder. 

“Do you like me, Ginny?” Harry asked suddenly. Ginny looked away and said nothing. Harry put his hand on her chin and tilted her head up so she was looking at him again. “Do you like me?” he repeated, looking at her intently. She said nothing for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

“I’ve always liked you, Harry,” she said, very quietly. They stared at one another for a while, and then a ghost of a smile flickered over Harry’s face.

“Good,” he said softly, and without thinking that Malfoy was just a few metres ahead, without thinking of Ron, or Dean, he bent his head and kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she responded by throwing her arms around his neck.

“Well, Minerva,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle, as he and Professor McGonagall walked up to the castle, “it seems that Harry himself is not too concerned about his new magical prowess. Molly _will_ be pleased.” 

Professor McGonagall gave a sniff. “Yes, that’s all very well, but I trust you saw the incident a moment ago with Malfoy…not just Potter’s astonishing reflexes, but the strength of his shield too! It produced its own magical current, I felt it!”

“Yes, so did I, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, the smile fading slightly from his face. “It is most curious. I shall talk to him now about it. Well, as soon as he puts Miss Weasley down, that is.”

The two teachers approached the place where Harry and Ginny were still kissing fervently, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched by the Headmaster and the Deputy Head.

“Ahem.”

A small cough made Harry and Ginny break apart quickly. Both blushed furiously as they saw Dumbledore beaming at them, and Professor McGonagall standing next to him, pointedly looking in the other direction.

“My apologies for disrupting your celebrations with Miss Weasley, Harry, but I wonder if I could have a talk with you in my office?” 

Harry nodded, his face still red. “Yes, sir.” 

“Excellent, excellent. However, I don’t want to put too abrupt an end to you and Miss Weasley’s festivities, so perhaps you can come up in ten minutes or so?”

Harry nodded again, unable to meet Dumbledore’s eyes. He had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore was rather enjoying his discomfort. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked past them and up to the castle, the latter giving the pair a disapproving look, although her mouth twitched as though she was trying to repress a smile.

“Well…” Ginny said eventually, sounding rather breathless. “That was embarrassing.”

Harry grinned and took her hand. “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

“Then why is your face still bright red, Mr Potter?”

Harry laughed, and then looked at her seriously. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, Ginny,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “Probably not as long as I have.” She raised a hand to his face. “Where are your glasses?”

“Oh,” Harry said in surprise, “they’re in my pocket. It’s weird…I don’t seem to need them anymore.”

“That’s strange. It’s a shame, really,” Ginny said breezily, “I always thought they were rather cute.”

“I can put them on just for you, if you like?” Harry suggested with a smirk 

“Nah, you’re alright,” she said, taking his other hand in hers. They looked at each other for a while, each lost in the others’ eyes. Then Harry spoke again.

“What are we going to do about Ron?”

Ginny bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll be that bad…he’s always hinted that he wouldn’t mind if we got together. I think he’ll just be a bit…shocked. I don’t think he’s noticed anything, you know how unperceptive he is. D’you want me to tell him?”

“No, no, I’ll do it. I s’pose I’ll have to wait ‘til I come back from seeing Dumbledore though.”

She nodded. “I cant really believe this is happening. I thought you might like me, but…”

“I think it was pretty obvious that I liked you,” said Harry with a laugh. “Except to Ron, of course. When did you realise I did?”

Ginny thought for a moment. “I think the first time I ever thought it was a possibility was when you came into the Common Room at night, after your run, and I was the only one in it. Do you remember?”

“Vividly,” Harry said, thinking of how beautiful he’d thought Ginny looked that night.

“Yeah, I think it was then that I started to think you might…you kept trying to say something, and then you came out with something really lame like ’look after yourself’.” They both laughed. “Oh yeah, and you kept trying to look down my top,” she finished slyly. Harry blushed.

“Actually, I wasn’t! You have a freckle on your chest, for your information, that is very attention-grabbing!”

She smiled up at him. “Okay, I believe you. And then…over Christmas, when we had that row, I thought you might. Hermione insisted that you only said that thing about me going out with everyone because you were jealous.”

“I was,” Harry agreed. “Insanely. Yeah, Hermione kept saying things to me about it, saying I should get a move on and stuff.”

“Well, you should have! It’s been almost two weeks since I broke up with Dean! I thought then that maybe I was wrong, and so was Hermione. I thought maybe you only saw me as a friend, as Ron’s sister. D’you know, Anthony Goldstein asked me out the day, and I actually considered it because I didn’t think you were ever going to make a move.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Harry growled, suddenly feeling an irrational dislike for the friendly Hufflepuff. “I would’ve hexed him to bits.”

Ginny laughed, and then tugged his hand. “Come on, we should go in now. What does Dumbledore want to see you for now?”

“Dunno,” said Harry, his brain still focussed on Ginny. “Probably wants to embarrass me further.”

“I doubt that’s possible. Well anyway, I’m going this way, back to the Common Room. I’ll see you when you come out.”

Harry nodded, drawing her in for another kiss. All too soon he had to break away in order not to be too late for Dumbledore. As he raced up the spiral staircase he wondered what Dumbledore wanted to talk about this time. 

 


	18. Power and Permission

****

18

****

 

As Harry entered Dumbledore’s office he made a conscious effort not to meet the older man’s eyes; he was very aware of the fact that Dumbledore was wearing what looked suspiciously like a rather smug smile.

“Ah, good to see you, Harry. But alas, you are ten minutes later than we agreed!” he said, flourishing his ornate wristwatch. “Whatever can have kept you so busy?”

Harry felt himself flush again. “Sir…” he entreated, looking at his knees as he sat. 

Dumbledore laughed. “How the young are so easily embarrassed! But congratulations, Harry…Miss Weasley is a fine young woman.”

Harry couldn’t stop the grin that spread over his face. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled.

Dumbledore leaned forward. “I wish I could tell you that I asked you in here to merely discuss your budding love life, but I cannot. There are two things that I would like to discuss. The first is the locket that you informed me of the other day. I went to Grimmauld Place yesterday and collected it.”

Harry looked up eagerly. “Is it a horcrux then, sir? Did you destroy it?” Dumbledore merely waved a hand, indicating the table behind him. Next to the cup and ring that had been there previously was a heavy, golden locket. “So it was a horcrux then?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed, Harry. Many thanks for discovering it; we have progressed greatly.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who got rid of it. How _do_ you destroy a horcrux, sir?”

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. “It depends on what the horcrux is, Harry. For inanimate objects like these it needs to be extracted; far more dangerous and difficult than it sounds. If I were a wizard of less power, it is conceivable that I might have died in the attempt. If the object is alive, like the snake Nagini…” his eyes flickered over Harry’s face again, “the process will undoubtedly be different.”

“Cant you just kill it, sir?” Dumbledore winced, as if Harry’s question had caused him great pain. “Sir?”

“I would like to think that there is another method, Harry. Death should never be taken lightly.”

“I’m not taking it lightly, sir…but it’s just a snake, isn’t it?”

Dumbledore passed his hand over his eyes. “Yes…it’s just a snake,” he said softly.

“Can I have a look at them, sir?” Harry asked, making as if to move towards the table where the horcruxes were placed.

“No!” said Dumbledore rather sharply. “No, forgive me Harry. I would like to get these checked over, make sure they are perfectly harmless before anyone else takes a look at them.”

Harry frowned. “Okay, sir,” he said, getting the impression that Dumbledore wasn’t being entirely honest with him. However, he was still too elated with how things had gone with Ginny to press the matter further. “So what was the second thing you wanted to talk to me about, sir?”

Dumbledore survey Harry over his half-moon glasses. “Harry, it had come to my attention that you are displayed uncommon magical talent. It had been picked up by more than just myself; indeed, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have remarked on it. Your performance at the Quidditch match today was rather…breathtaking.”

Harry shrugged. “It was just luck. I saw the snitch early on.”

“Without your glasses?” Dumbledore asked pointedly. Harry raised a hand to his face, as if checking he wasn’t wearing them.

“I just…I just didn’t need them, Professor,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Don’t you think that’s strange, Harry?”

Harry shrugged again. “I s’pose, yeah. But I’ve been getting better at everything really, so maybe my eyes have just improved too.”

“Maybe,” Dumbledore retorted, although it was obvious he did not think this was the case. “I understand from Professor Snape that you have been displaying some very surprising skill with wandless and non-verbal magic, Harry?”

“It was just that one lesson, sir,” Harry said defensively, although he wasn’t quite sure why he was so keen to play down his newly acquired talents. He knew, though, that it was something that Dumbledore did not approve of.

“You haven’t been doing wandless magic subconsciously, Harry?”

“No,” Harry lied, looking away. He could feel Dumbledore’s blue eyes staring at him, and cursed silently as he realised the Headmaster’s skill at Occlumency. He raised his wall, trying to look like he was merely looking at a painting on the wall.

“See this glass, Harry?” Dumbledore said suddenly, and Harry turned back to face him. He was pointing at an elaborate golden wine glass that sat on his desk. It was studded with tiny red jewels. “It was given to me by my grandfather. It is very special to me. Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Er…yes, sir” Harry agreed, confused by the change of subject. Dumbledore stood up suddenly.

“Ah, one moment Harry…” As the Headmaster stood up, the bottom of his sleeve caught on the top of the glass, and toppled it from the table. Instinctively, Harry shot out his arm and the glass sailed up from where it was inches from the floor, into his hand. Harry suddenly realised what the Headmaster had done. He looked up slowly, to see Dumbledore looking at him, an astute look upon his face. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Dumbledore spoke. “That was very impressive, Harry. I’m disappointed that you chose to try and hide that from me.”

Harry felt his face darken in anger. “You…did that…You tricked me!”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I did. Rather ingenious, was it not? Harry, I would much prefer if I did not have to do that. I would like you to be honest with me.”

“What, like you’ve been to me?” Harry spat, feeling surprisingly betrayed by Dumbledore’s little trick. Dumbledore said nothing, so Harry continued. “You said you’d be honest with me, but you’re hiding something now, I know you are! Something about those horcruxes!” Was it Harry’s imagination, or did Dumbledore pale slightly at this.

“Harry,” he said finally, although it seemed to cause him great effort, “please consider the fact that if indeed I am hiding anything from you, it is simply because there is no need for you to know. At least, not yet. It is for --”

 

“For my own good,” Harry finished, glaring at Dumbledore crossly. “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” 

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “Indeed I have. Now, would you be so kind as to demonstrate some of new talents? I would hate to have to trick you again.”

Harry shrugged, glowering at Dumbledore mutinously. Dumbledore seemed unperturbed by this, and picked up the glass again, placing it on a ledge at the far side of the room. “Could you summon the glass silently, without your wand, Harry?”

Harry sighed, and stuck out his arm. The cup at once flew across the room into his hand. He placed it back on the table, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Dumbledore plunge a hand into his robe to pull out his wand. Without thinking that it was only Dumbledore, Harry instinctively drew his own. He realised as he pulled it out that he had done it quicker than Dumbledore.

“Quite remarkable reflexes, Harry,” Dumbledore said blithely, stowing his wand back in his robes and sitting back down. “Are you telling me that you’re not questioning where it’s all come from?” 

“Of course I have,” Harry muttered, twirling his hand between his fingers.

“Because I, for one, do not think all that power is your own.”

“Of course you don’t,” Harry grumbled. “Little Harry could never be this powerful,” he said sarcastically.

Dumbledore smiled. “I have never doubted your abilities, Harry. In addition, I would never call you ‘little’ either. Well, not since last year anyway - you’ve grown an astonishing amount this last year,” he said, rather proudly. 

Harry grunted in agreement, and then looked up suddenly. “I know what you’re trying to say. I know you think it’s Voldemort’s power. And…I do too. But not all of it. I mean, some of it must be from my extra training, mustn’t it?”

“Indeed, Harry. Yes, I would say that all your progress at duelling, all your physical strength is your own. It’s just…your wandless and non-verbal magic is unusually advanced, so I would guess that some of that power is Voldemort’s. The strength behind your magic is also unexpected, so I would assume that, too, is Voldemort’s”.

Harry nodded. “What about my reflexes. They’re really…well…quick”.

Dumbledore smiled again. “Yes, I’ve thought about that, Harry. Voldemort has never been known for his quick reflexes, so I would have to assume that that is a skill acquired courtesy of your Auror training.”

“Oh,” Harry said, rather surprised. “That’s good. So…I mean, I don’t understand what the big deal is. Even if some of my power is from him, isn’t that a good thing? Cant I just use it against him eventually?”

“Yes, of course you can. It is not your power that is the worrying thing, Harry. It is _why_ you have his powers. Why are some of Voldemort’s powers being transferred to you now?”

“Er…?”

“My guess, Harry, although I cannot be certain, is that destroying the horcruxes means that as more and more parts of his soul are destroyed, the connection between the two of you grows stronger. There is also the more obvious fact that as his power grows, so will yours. Because he _marked you as his equal_ , your power is growing with his.” 

“Well, isn’t that good still?” Harry asked, rather confused.

Dumbledore sighed. “In theory, Harry, in theory. However, I fear that it is not only some of his powers that are seeping into you. Perhaps…some of his feelings may too…some of his dreams…hopes.”

Harry stared. “You think he might possess me?” he asked bluntly.

“Not possess you, no” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. “He cannot _make_ you do anything; I daresay your Occlumency is too strong now. But it may be that you will do something you wouldn’t normally do, because of some of his…characteristics being immersed in you.”

Harry stared in horror. “You mean, I might suddenly try and kill Hermione because she’s muggle-born or something?”

“Not at all, Harry. There is far too much of YOU in your mind to allow yourself to do such a thing. No, I think it will be far more subtle. If we continue to use Miss Granger as an example, it is perhaps feasible to suggest that if you and she had a heated argument, in your fit of temper you may call her - forgive the obscenity - a Mudblood.”

Harry looked horror struck. “And there’s nothing I can do to stop it?”

“No, Harry, but try not to worry too much. I know this must seem horrible, but I doubt it will get much worse. Do not get into any panic about killing your muggle-born friends. All I can ask is that you let me know if you do anything uncharacteristic, something you perhaps associate with Voldemort.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir”. He looked up suddenly. “That’s why you were so interested in me being able to do the Cruciatus and the killing curse, isn’t it Professor?”

“Indeed it is, Harry. I asked you how you felt when you performed it too. Professor Snape’s comment the day after made me think. If you remember, he said your pleasure at using the curse reminded him of Voldemort.”

Harry scowled at the mention of Snape, but then looked at Dumbledore. “But sir…the thing is…I know I told you it felt good when I did it…but it was more than that. I really…well, I really enjoyed seeing her suffer. I enjoyed her pain, her screams. I was _smiling_ when I did it.” He looked very worried.

Dumbledore gave a small smile. “Perhaps you did, Harry, but think about who you were doing it to. You were using the curse against his favourite, most trusted Death Eater. You were already using his talent against him.” Harry nodded, slightly relived. “Now, remember to inform me of anything of interest, anything at all. You know where to find me. And I, in turn, will inform you if I find or learn anything about the horcruxes. Now perhaps you should return to your Common Room; I’m sure you don’t want to leave Miss Weasley on her own for too long,” he said, his eyes twinkling again.

 

“Er…Ron, can I have a word? In private?” Harry asked a few hours later, as he, Hermione, Ron and Ginny sat in front of the fire in the Common Room. Hermione kept shooting pleased little smiles at him, and Harry realised that Ginny must have told her what had happened. Harry had intended to talk to Ron as soon as he came out of Dumbledore’s office, but he had been waylaid when they asked him to relate what the Headmaster had told him. He told them everything except the part about the possibility that he might inherit Voldemort’s characteristics; Harry didn’t particularly want to share that piece of information with anyone. However, after a significant look from Ginny Harry decided that he could put it off no longer.

“Alright,” said Ron, getting to his feet.

“Let’s…er, let’s go upstairs,” said Harry hurriedly, not wanting to be overheard, or distracted by Hermione and Ginny. The two boys walked up to their dormitory, Harry’s heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

“Well? What is it? Is it about…You-Know-Who?” Ron asked warily.

“No, no…er, actually…it’s about Ginny.”

“What about her?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. “Has she got a new boyfriend already?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Who is then? Do I know him?”

“Er…yeah. Ron, the thing is…”

“What? Who is it?” He scowled suddenly. “It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”

“What? No, of course it’s not Malfoy, don’t be stupid.”

“Well, who is it then?”

Harry looked at Ron for a moment, wondering what to say. “It’s me,” he said finally, holding his breath. Ron stared at him.

“What? I don’t understand.”

Harry sighed, wondering if Ron was making it hard for him deliberately. “Ron…me and Ginny…we’re kind of…together.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open; he looked like he’d been clubbed over the head. “You? You and…you and…my sister? Together? Ginny, you mean?”

“I wasn’t aware you had any other sisters, Ron,” Harry said dryly.

“My sister? My little sister? You and her?”

“Er…yeah,” Harry said, still holding his breath. Ron seemed to think for a moment, his head on one side. Then he shrugged.

“Alright,” he said, turning to go back to the Common Room. Harry grabbed his arm.

“Wait! You’re not…you’re not angry?”

“Nah. You’re better than Dean and that Michael Corner bloke from last year. Besides, she’s liked you for ages. I know you’re alright, you won’t hurt her.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Actually, you can be pretty stupid sometimes, can’t you? Alright Potter, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up,” he said taking a step closer to Harry, his face grave. “Ginny is my little sister, and you might be my best mate, but let me tell you…if you hurt her in any way, I swear by Merlin I will kill you.” 

Harry tried to keep a straight face. “Okay, Ron.”

“I mean it, Potter. You might be able to beat me in a duel, but never forget that Ginny has six older brothers. We will tear you to pieces with our bare hands if you hurt her.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Harry said seriously.

“Right,” said Ron, as if that settled everything. “Now I’ve given you my permission, d’you want to go and play some wizard chess?”

“Yeah alright,” Harry said with a grin. “Oh wait, Ron…seeing as Hermione hasn’t got any older brothers, I’m going to do the honours for her.”

“What d’you mean?” said Ron, his face turning red.

“Listen, Weasley,” Harry said slowly, trying to keep the smirk off his face. “You may be my best mate, but Hermione is too. If you hurt her in the smallest way…” he drew his wand for impact, “having _sixty_ older brothers won’t help you. I will hex you into smithereens…and you know I can. Just think about it.”

“Hermione and me…we’re not…you’ve got…” Ron muttered, his face a rather spectacular crimson. “Yeah, alright.”

“Good,” said Harry lightly, putting his wand back in his robes. “Now we’re done being all macho, and I’ve given you _my_ permission, how about that game of chess?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ron nodded.

  



	19. Hogsmeade Horror

  
****

19

****

 

Harry didn’t have as much time to spend with Ginny as he would have hoped. His homework has pilling up, as was his training. Harry didn’t notice himself gaining any more strange abilities, although he continued to excel in his classes and produce unconscious wandless and non-verbal magic. Tonks, Kingsley and Moody were pushing him to the brink with his training. Although Harry had beaten Moody over Christmas, the old Auror was by no means an easy duel; the two were pretty well matched and Harry often found himself lying on the floor winded while Moody barked orders at him.

“Get up! Get up, Potter! If I were a Death Eater that would have been a killing curse! Get up! Let‘s do it again!”

It was with great relief then, when Harry was allowed a Saturday off to go into Hogsmeade. He had only been once in the first term and was looking forward having a day with Ginny. Wrapped up against the February chill, the two teenagers strolled leisurely along the lane that went from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. The many Aurors that were posted every hundred feet or so did not go unnoticed by the pair.

“How many Aurors are stationed at Hogsmeade then?” whispered Ginny as they walked past a particularly fierce looking Auror.

“Dumbledore said there’s about forty,” Harry said in a low voice. “Hey, there’s Tonks!” he said, pointing at a female Auror half obscured by trees.

“Wotcher Harry, Ginny!” she said with a grin as they approached. “Aren’t you two looking very romantic. Molly _will_ be pleased. You should have seen her face when Ron owled home about you two. You do realise she’s already planning the wedding don’t you, Harry?”

“Shut up, Tonks,” Harry mumbled, feeling rather embarrassed. She wasn’t really thinking about them getting married, was she? Tonks just laughed.

“You two should carry on up; I’m not meant to talk to you…just watch you,” she said with a wry grin at Harry.

“Watch me? Surely you’re watching everyone, not just me?” Harry asked, his brow creasing.

“Well, put it this way Harry,” Tonks said evenly. “If _you_ didn’t go to Hogwarts, there would probably be thirty-five less Aurors here.”

Harry scowled. He hated being a special case. Ginny noticed his annoyance and tugged his arm.

“Come on, forget about it. Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and have a butterbeer. See you, Tonks.” Slipping her hand into his, she led him down the lane and into the village. As they entered the pub Harry felt his heart drop. Snape was sitting at a table with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. He looked up as the pair entered and his eyes flickered over Harry first, then Ginny, and then their entwined hands. An ugly sneer spread over his face. Harry stood his ground, glaring at Snape fiercely until Dumbledore attempted to engage him in conversation, and he was forced to look away. Taking the table furthest away from the teachers, Harry scowled into his drink.

“I hate him,” he spat. “I hate him so much.”

“I know,” Ginny soothed. “We all do. But just try to ignore him. Come on, after this year there’s only one more year of him and you’ll never have to see him again.”

“Hopefully it’ll be less time than that. The Defence job is jinxed, remember? Quirrell died, Lockhart lost his memory, Remus had to leave, Crouch got the Dementor’s kiss, Umbridge got carted off by angry centaurs…” he ticked it off on his fingers. “Personally, I’m going to hope for another death.” Harry glared at Snape savagely, and then he paused. “Hey! I can hear them!”

“Hear who, Harry?” Ginny asked, confused.

“Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall. I can hear what they’re saying!”

“Really?” Ginny said doubtfully, looking at the three teachers. “They’re on the other side of the room, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry said, confused himself. “But I can.” He strained his ears, and heard Professor McGonagall’s voice.

“…nice to see Potter with Miss Weasley. I think she’ll be good for him, hopefully make him smile a bit more. He’s seemed rather unhappy recently.”

“I just hope it doesn’t make Potter even more arrogant,” Harry heard Snape say smoothly. “Although I doubt that’s actually possible.”

“Potter’s not arrogant, Severus,” Professor McGonagall said, rather sharply.

“I think Harry is probably one of the most modest young men I’ve ever met,” Dumbledore said quietly. Snape gave a sound akin to a disbelieving snort.

“Perhaps he acts different around you then, Headmaster. With me, he is always insufferably arrogant. Well, like father like son, I suppose.”

“We’ve been through this before, Severus. Harry is _not_ James, however much he may look like him.” 

“I always thought he was more similar to his mother,” McGonagall said. “Although he does seem to have the same knack as James for breaking school rules.”

“Potter is nothing like his mother,” Snape sneered. “Evans was at least --” he stopped suddenly. Harry felt irrational anger flood through him. How could Snape even speak about his parents after he had all but sentenced them to death?

“Come on,” he said to Ginny, pulling her up and striding along to the door. On the way he accidentally-on-purpose stumbled over his shoelace, knocking into the teachers’ table rather violently and causing their drinks to spill. “Oh!” he said, in apparent embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I tripped. Sorry Professor Dumbledore, sorry Professor McGonagall.” He turned to Snape, as if daring him to ask for an apology to. When Snape said nothing Harry gave him a filthy look, and walked sharply out of the pub. He knew Professor McGonagall would chastise him later, but it was worth it.

“What on earth made you do that, Harry?” Ginny asked, rather shocked.

“He was talking about my parents,” Harry growled. “I hate him.”

“I know, you’ve said,” Ginny replied rather wearily. “But that was…I dunno…rather unlike you.”

Harry turned to face her. “What d’you mean?” he said brusquely, grabbing her shoulders. She stared at him. 

“Nothing…just, I wouldn’t think you’d do something like that when Dumbledore was there. I mean, it was his drink you spilt too. Harry, can you let go of my shoulders now, it hurts.”

“Sorry,” he said, releasing her at once and giving her a quick hug. “It’s just…I’m a bit sensitive about doing things that aren’t things I’d usually do.” He explained briefly what Dumbledore had told him about him inheriting Voldemort’s characteristics. Ginny listened attentively.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Harry,” she said when he’d finished. “I can’t really imagine You-Know-Who bumping into someone’s table to spill their drinks if he was angry with them, can you? I think that was you, one hundred percent. It’s a shame, really; at least if it had been You-Know-Who’s influence you might have escaped punishment.”

Harry smiled, thankful Ginny always knew the right things to say. “Come on, let’s go and look in Zonko’s, Ron said…” He stopped suddenly, his eyes darting wildly about.

“Harry? What is it?” Ginny asked anxiously.

“Something’s not right,” he said quietly. “I can feel it.” His scar suddenly burned and he clapped a hand to it. “Ginny, go and find the nearest Auror and tell them that five dementors are coming, along with four Death Eaters!” Ginny stared at him in horror. “GO!” he repeated, and she ran in the opposite direction.

“You alright, Harry?” Seamus said, approaching him with Dean. “You look a bit…”

“Seamus,” Harry gasped, “go and get Dumbledore, he’s in the Three Broomsticks, tell him Death Eaters and dementors are coming here.” Seamus opened his mouth stupidly.

“Harry, we’ve just come from the Three Broomsticks,” Dean said worriedly. “Dumbledore left about five minutes ago, along with Snape and McGonagall.”

Harry groaned and pulled out his wand. “Tell everyone to go back to the castle. Find as many Aurors as you can,” he ordered. Seamus and Dean nodded and ran off. Harry felt himself turn cold, and he knew the dementors were approaching. He could hear raised voices, people wondering what was going on, why everyone was panicking. His head suddenly filled with his mother’s screams, and he shut his eyes tightly.

__

“Not Harry, please not Harry!”

__

“Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside!”

__

“Please, not Harry!”

__

Harry snapped his eyes opened. Gliding towards him were five dementors, their hoods up and their breath rattling. Think happy thoughts, Harry commanded himself. Think Quidditch.

“Expecto Patronum!” he shouted, and a silver mist shot out from his wand. It held the dementors back for a short while but then collapsed. “NO!” Harry shouted, as the dementors moved closer to him, their rotting hands outstretched. _Think of something else, something happier_. Ginny. Picturing her face in his mind, picturing their first kiss, Harry raised his wand again. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he yelled. His stag sprang from the end of his wand and charged towards the dementors, its antlers lowered. Without waiting to see what happened, Harry spun around and raced in the opposite direction. Most students had already left Hogsmeade, but there were a few still running around in confusion. “Get back to the castle!” he yelled at them angrily, and once they’d seen who he was they hurried obediently towards Hogwarts.

“Potter? Harry Potter?” Harry whirled around, his wand raised, but it was just an Auror. “What happened?”

“Five dementors over there,” Harry gasped, pointing. “I think I’ve got rid of them. But there’s four Death Eaters, I dunno where though…”

The Auror nodded. “Listen, you have to get back to the castle. There are two Aurors just there to escort you back. Go, quickly!”

Harry nodded and ran over to the two Aurors. They were tall, strong looking men, and as soon as Harry approached them they grabbed his arm, marching him along the path.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” Harry said irritably.

“Then do so, quickly,” one of them said, and the three broke into a sprint towards the castle.

__

“Avada Kedavra!”

__

From out of nowhere, or so it seemed, a jet of green light struck the Auror to Harry’s left on the back and he toppled over, dead.

“No!” Harry gasped. The Auror on his right quickly stood in front of him, pushing Harry behind him. Four Death Eaters were walking slowly out of the copse of trees on the side of the lane, their wands out, and their eyes glittering behind their masks.

“Go! Get back to castle!” the Auror ordered.

“I can’t just leave you with four Death Eaters!” Harry exclaimed.

“Of course you can! You’re the Chosen One! You have to!” The Auror gave him a shove, and Harry dutifully began to run. He had only gone a few metres when he stopped and turned around. One Death Eater was on the ground, presumably stunned, and the Auror was trying to dodge the various red and green lights that were being shot at him. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the nearest Death Eater.

“Stupefy!” he yelled, and the Death Eater crumpled to the ground.

“Avada Kedavra!” The first Death Eater shot another killing curse at the Auror, which he managed to duck, but the second Death Eater shot another straight after. It hit the Auror square in the chest and he immediately dropped.

“No!” Harry whispered. The remaining two Death Eaters looked up from the body of the Auror, their eyes meeting Harry’s. Harry spun around and began to sprint towards the castle. Where were all the other Aurors? Why was he on his own? Harry had obviously not yet reached the anti-apparation zone of Hogwarts, because with two loud cracks the two Death Eaters appeared in front of him, malevolent smiles on their faces.

“Why are you running away, Harry Potter?” one said, who Harry recognised as Dolohov. “Surely the Chosen One doesn’t scare that easily?” Not wanting to take his chances with two fully trained Death Eaters, Harry ran to his left, launching himself over the fence and running into the woods on the side of the lane. He could hear the Death Eaters behind him, their footsteps obscenely loud in his ears. He flung himself behind a tree, his wand out and his chest heaving. He could hear the Death Eaters approaching and held his breath.

“Come out, come out Potter!” the other Death Eater growled, and Harry thought it was Goyle. “This isn’t hide and seek.”

“Expelliarmus!” Dolohov suddenly shouted, appearing in front of Harry. Harry was too surprised to grip his wand tighter, and with a great twitch, it jumped from his hand and into Dolohov’s. Before he could even attempt to summon it back wandlessly, Goyle pointed his own wand at it and it vanished. He grinned horribly at Harry.

“Heard you can summon your wand with only your hand, Potter. Doubt you can when you don’t know where it is.” Harry swore, realising that Gregory Goyle must have told his father about Harry’s progress in their Defence against the Dark Arts classes. Wheeling around, he ran through the trees, changing direction regularly in order to avoid the stunners that were being shot at him.

“You can’t run forever, Harry Potter!” Dolohov jeered. Harry stopped as they reached a clearing, unsure which way to go. Dolohov took this opportunity to curse him. “CRUCIO!” he shouted, and Harry at once fell to the floor, writhing in agony. His body screamed in protest, a million knives stabbing every part of him….relentless, unforgiving pain…and then it stopped, as suddenly as it started. Dolohov had lowered his wand and was looking at Harry with a mild interest on his face. “The famous Harry Potter. The Chosen One. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_ …oh, how he laughed over that. You have no power now, Harry Potter. You are completely at my mercy. How easy it would be for me to kill you…so easy…”

“No, he’s not to be killed! You remember what the Dark Lord said. We must bring the boy back to him. Potter is his to kill,” Goyle said, stepping forward and giving Harry a sharp kick in the ribs. Harry gasped, winded.

“That is true,” Dolohov conceded. “But that is not to say we cannot have some fun with him, is it?” Harry tried to sit up, his hands scrabbling in the grass.

Goyle smiled evilly and pointed his own wand at Harry. “CRUCIO!” he yelled, and once again Harry fell to the floor, the pain making his body spasm violently. He could hear himself yelling in agony, hear the faint laugher from the two Death Eaters. The torture went on for longer this time, but finally it stopped. Harry lay panting, his legs twitching involuntarily. One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, but before he could curse Harry again Harry sat up.

“Stupefy!” he yelled, his wand hand extended. He did not know why he did it; he had never managed to do offensive spells wandlessly before. To his relief and amazement, Dolohov fell to the ground, completely still. Harry looked at his hand in astonishment. Goyle stepped forward, his wand raised. He shouted something, but Harry did not hear it; the only sound he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, his own ragged breathing. And then pain took over his body…pain worse than the Cruciatus curse…a burning, ceaseless pain…his very body seemed to be on fire…his lungs seemed to be shrinking painful…he couldn’t breathe…he couldn’t stand it…

“That wasn’t nice, was it Potter?” said Goyle calmly. Harry lay there, gasping for breath, his whole body trembling. “Do you want me to do it again? Or are you going to come quietly?” Harry gasped, unable to speak. “No? Perhaps a bit more pain will help you make a decision. SECTUMSEMPRA!” 

Gathering all strength he had left, Harry crossed his right arm over his body. “Protego!” he shouted, feeling his throat tear. The curse rebounded back onto Goyle, who was obviously not prepared for Harry to raise his shield. Deep gashes cut across his face, throat and chest and he dropped to the floor in pain, screaming wildly. Harry dragged himself to his feet, stumbling over Dolohov’s motionless body. He didn’t know how long he walked for; he didn’t even know which direction he was going in. He could feel an uncomfortable wetness in his lungs, and he was making loud wheezing sounds as he breathed. He could feel blood dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t have the strength to raise a hand to wipe it away. He had never felt so drained, so in pain, so utterly weak. With every step he took he could feel his heart protesting…he couldn’t go any further…he couldn’t. His knees gave way and he crumpled to the ground, rolling a few feet until he was half obscured by the low-hanging branches of a trees. He felt his eyelids flicker, and tried to keep them open. He knew he had to stay awake, he knew he shouldn’t give in. But it was not use. White light danced in front of his eyes and he coughed, blood dribbling from his mouth. Unable to keep his eyes from closing, unable to move a single muscle, Harry gave up, his body growing still and cold as the sun began to sink.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Blue Light

20

  
“Albus, what’s happening?” The voice of Professor McGonagall was unusually strained as she hurried across the room. “What’s the latest news?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He was in his office, having just returned from the Ministry of Magic for an emergency conference with Rufus Scrimgeour. Professors McGonagall and Snape had hurried to his office as soon as they had heard he was back. “No students are dead, Minerva, although two Aurors are. One student is still missing.”

Professor McGonagall gasped. “Who?” When Dumbledore didn’t answer she took a step forward. “Not Potter?” Dumbledore inclined his head. Snape sneered.

“Now why is that not surprising?”

“Severus, this is serious! Albus, do you know anything about where he is, what happened?”

“Yes, Minerva. I spoke to an Auror stationed at Hogsmeade who had seen Harry. Harry had informed him that he had just got rid of the dementors, and the Auror said that he sent Harry back here, accompanied by two other Aurors.”

McGonagall nodded quickly. “And?”

Dumbledore sighed again. “It was those same Aurors who were found dead in the road. They found Harry’s wand in a ditch a few hundred feet away.” Professor McGonagall clapped a hand to her mouth in horror. Snape took a step forward.

“So what is to be done, Headmaster?”

“Scrimgeour has ordered Aurors to comb the village, the Forbidden Forest and the surrounding areas for him. But I must confess…I do not think he will be there.”

“You think they took him? To…You-Know-Who?” Professor McGonagall said, her face ashen.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore simply. “I’m afraid…I fear the worst.”

“Is there anything we can do to help, Albus?”

“No, Minerva. We must stay at the castle. The Aurors will be looking for him all night and tomorrow. Until they are certain he is not still here, there is nothing we can do. Severus, I trust you do not have any information from Voldemort?”

“No, Headmaster,” said Snape smoothly. “He only tells his plans to those who carry them out. I cannot go to him until he calls me; he will suspect otherwise.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “Do you have any idea what he will do with Harry if he does have him?”

Snape looked Dumbledore directly in the eye. “He wants the boy dead, Headmaster. That has been his main goal for the last two years.” Dumbledore sat down heavily in his seat, his head in his hands. “I’ve been informed that Potter’s magic has greatly improved. Perhaps he managed to get away?” Snape suggested, although it was obvious he thought it was very unlikely.

“Without his wand, Severus?” Professor McGonagall asked incredulously, and Snape bowed his head. “His friends…Mr Weasley, Miss Granger…Miss Weasley…do they know?”

Dumbledore shook his head “No. Perhaps I could ask you to do that, Minerva?” She nodded and hurried away. “Severus, I have not informed the Order fully. They are aware of the attack, but not of Harry’s disappearance. Would you be so kind as to fill them in?” Snape nodded curtly and walked over to the fireplace.

  
Hundred of miles away, Mrs Weasley was wringing her hands.

“Oh, I do hope they’re okay!” she said passionately, to no one in particular. She was sitting nervously at the table along with Mr Weasley, Remus, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred and George. “Why haven’t they told us what’s going on?”

“I wish Dumbledore would let us go up there and help,” Fred said in annoyance, and George and Charlie nodded their agreement.

“Well he said it’s all been sorted out, didn’t he? The Death Eaters have gone. There is nothing we can do but wait. Kingsley, Tonks and Moody are up there too; I‘m sure they‘ll let us know if they need any help,” Bill said reasonably. Just at that moment the fireplace flared green, and Snape stepped out. Everyone rose to their feet.

“Severus, do you have any news?” Mrs Weasley said, hurrying towards him.

“Indeed,” Snape said calmly, eyeing the table. “No students are known to be dead, although there were two Auror fatalities. Hogsmeade in under Auror control, and the dementors and Death Eaters have gone. Two Death Eaters were found stunned in the street and have been taken to Azkaban.” He paused for a moment. “And Potter is missing.”

“Missing?” whispered Mrs Weasley, swaying alarmingly. Mr Weasley reached out and steadied her. “Missing?”

“What do you know, Snape?” asked Lupin, striding forward.

“Not much. Only that the two Aurors who were meant to be escorting Potter back to Hogwarts have been found dead, and Potter’s wand was found not far from there.”

“His wand?” said Lupin softly, as Mrs Weasley burst into tears. “What’s being done?”

“A team of Aurors are searching the nearby area. Although Dumbledore doesn’t think he will be there anymore,” he said loftily.

“I’m going to look too,” Lupin said, pinching a handful of floo powder and stepping in.

“It won’t make a difference,” Snape said, folding his arms.

“Many hands make light work,” Lupin said thinly. He threw down the powder, stated his destination and was gone.

“Yeah, we’re coming too!” said Fred, who was quickly followed by George, Bill, Charlie and Mr Weasley.

“You can’t all go,” Snape said, sounding exasperated. “Someone has to stay at the Headquarters.”

“I’ll stay,” Mrs Weasley said through her, tears. “Oh please find him, boys, Arthur…I wont be able to bear it if he’s…if he’s…I can’t lose another son!”

“He’s not your son,” Snape said wryly.

“He’s as good as!” she said fervently, dissolving into another bout of sobs. Fleur came over and wrapped her arms around her as the five other Weasley’s stepped up to the fireplace and disappeared.

  
Harry lay still and pale under the same tree, its leaves brushing his white cheek. His mouth was slightly open and there was dried blood on his chin and forehead. He did not seem to be breathing, but on closer inspection his chest was rising and falling, barely discernible. As the night grew colder so did his body. His black hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, but he did not move. The hours passed and still he lay there, his face becoming more illuminated as the sun began to rise again. The birds began to sing their morning chorus, but still the boy did not wake. He simply lay there…cold…silent…unmoving…broken.

  
The news that Harry Potter had disappeared caused as much tension and worry as one would have expected. Despite doing their best to hush it up, someone at the Ministry of Magic had leaked the story, and thus the front cover of the Daily Prophet brought the news to the whole wizarding world. Hogwarts was unusually quiet, especially the Gryffindors. They had been the first to notice Harry’s disappearance the previous day, and most of the students woke early on the Sunday and hurried down to the Common Room, eager to see if anything had happened over night.

“Hey, there’s stuff in the Prophet about it!” said Seamus, waving the newspaper in the air.

“What does it say?” Ron asked quickly. He was pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. He had hardly slept at all that night, uncomfortably aware of the empty bed next to him. He was sat in between Hermione and Ginny on one of the sofas, holding each of their hands.

“HARRY POTTER MISSING - IS THE BOY-WHO-LIVED FINALLY DEAD?”

Hermione burst into tears. Ron held up a hand. “Best not read anymore, Seamus.”

“That was just the headline,” Seamus said in confusion.

“Just leave it,” Ron said firmly, putting his arm around Hermione. “It’ll alright. You know Harry, he always gets out of scrapes, he always get away.”

Hermione sobbed harder. “Not without his wand, Ron. He’d never leave his wand!”  
Ron couldn’t think of anything to say to this, so just hugged her tighter. The portrait hole opened and Remus Lupin stepped inside, followed by Professor McGonagall.

“Is there any news?” Ginny said at once, standing up. Lupin shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Ginny. We’ve been looking all night.” He rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Dumbledore has insisted I get some sleep, so Snape is taking over from me.”

“Well, he’s not exactly going to look very hard, is he?” said Dean in disgust. A murmur of assent passed through the common room. Professor McGonagall didn’t seem to have the energy to reprimand them. She merely sighed, and stepped back out the portrait hole.

  
Severus Snape crossed a small footbridge over a stream about half a mile away from Hogwarts, next to a small forest. His dark eyes darted around, searching for any signs of a struggle, or any footprints in the grass. There were none. As he stepped over a rock one of his feet slipped on the wet stones, and he stumbled. He flung his hand up to the rail and gripped it, and as he did so his wand slipped from his fingers and plunged into the stream. He pulled himself up quickly, searching the water so he could summon his wand back, but he couldn’t see it anywhere. He held out his hand anyway, and said “Accio wand!” but nothing happened. Swearing under his breath, he turned back. He was not going to go another step without his wand. They would have to send someone else. He began striding quickly back towards the castle.

No more than twenty feet away, Harry Potter was stirring. His eyelids flickered feebly. He tried to move his legs but they were cold and stiff, and wouldn’t do what he wanted. He managed to twist his body to the side slightly but was forced to stop immediately; pain shot through him and he gasped in agony, his breathing ragged. As he lay there, helpless, he thought he heard something. Straining his ears, he heard someone swearing, and then footsteps coming closer. Someone was coming…he was saved. Holding his breath, he saw black shoes and robes pass a few metres from him, walking briskly away. They hadn’t seen him.

“Come back!” he croaked, but whoever the feet belonged to obviously couldn’t hear his weak voice. “Please!” he whispered. The feet carried on walking and then stopped suddenly. Snape paused. He thought he’d heard something, although he wasn’t quite sure what. He turned cautiously, remembering he had no wand. His eyes scanned his surroundings quickly, and then stopped under a large tree with long, low-hanging branches. There was a body underneath it…a man, it looked like. He walked forward slowly. The man groaned slightly, and Snape stopped. He knew that voice.

“Potter?” he spat, standing over the body. Harry groaned again, more weakly than before. Snape knelt beside him. He couldn’t see Harry’s face properly because he was lying on his side, his face half pressed against the ground. He pulled Harry over on his back roughly, looking at him intently. “Potter, what are you doing here? What happened?” Harry opened his eyes slightly, and Snape noticed how dull they looked. “Are you hurt?” he asked unnecessarily, for it was obvious he was; he was pale and shaking, with dried blood splattered across his face. Harry gasped. “Can you walk, Potter?” he said roughly.

“Yes,” Harry managed, although his voice was barely audible. Snape pulled him up by his arms, and Harry stood swaying, his legs trembling.

“Walk, then,” Snape snapped. “Everyone’s out looking for you, although no doubt that pleases you - that’s more attention for the great Harry Potter. Don’t worry, the sooner we get to the castle the sooner you can do your interviews.” It was the fact that Harry did not snap back that made Snape think he was perhaps seriously injured. He looked more closely at Harry. “I would conjure you a stretcher, Potter, but I dropped my wand whilst looking for you. We can’t apparate into Hogwarts so we’ll have to walk. Come on.”

Harry took a step forward but immediately his knees gave way and he dropped to the ground, coughing and panting. Snape sneered. “Come on, Potter, save the melodramatics for the photographers. You can walk, come on.” When Harry made no signs of moving, Snape knelt next to him. “What happened to you, Potter?”

Harry gasped for a while before he could speak. “Death…Eaters…” he managed.

“I’d worked that out for myself, funnily enough,” Snape said, trying to pull Harry up into a sitting position. “What curses did they use on you?” Harry coughed again, this time blood trickling from his mouth. Snape paled slightly. “Did they use the Cruciatus curse, Potter?” 

Harry nodded. “And…blue…one.” 

Snape frowned. “Blue light?” Harry nodded. “The nerve-burning curse,” he muttered, more to himself than to Harry. “Potter, can you feel your feet?” Harry shook his head. Snape held out his hand. “Squeeze my hand, as hard as you can.” Harry put out a hand slowly and squeezed Snape’s hand. Snape hardly felt it. “Is that as hard as you can do?” Snape said in disbelief.

“Yes,” Harry panted. His breath was coming in loud wheezes, and he was coughing up more blood.

“Can you feel liquid in your lungs, Potter?” Snape said sharply. Harry nodded again, slumping back to the ground and closing his eyes. “Potter, you need to get up! We need to get you to the castle now!”

“…can’t…” Harry muttered, coughing again.

“Potter, if we don’t get you there in an hour you will die! Although that would make things a lot easier for me, apparently the rest of the world doesn’t agree. Your lungs are filling up with blood and you will suffocate unless we get you some help. Do you understand me?”

Harry nodded weakly. “Yes,” he breathed.

Snape pulled Harry up again, grabbing his right arm and flinging it over his shoulder so he was supporting most of Harry’s weight. “You’re going to have to work with me, Potter. Try and move your feet.” He began walking slowly, Harry stumbling along next to him. Harry coughed again, and more blood trickled down his chin. Snape eyed it with distaste. “Try not to bleed all over me, Potter. This is not how I wanted to spend my weekend, so please don’t make it any worse.”

They had only gone a few metres when Harry’s body went limp, his head drooping onto Snape’s shoulder, his eyes closed.

“Potter, you must stay awake!” Snape hissed, shaking Harry hard. “I am not going to have your death on my conscience!” He shook Harry again, and he groaned and opened his eyes. “Stay awake, unless you want to die. If you do, please give your kind regards to your father for me. And to your godfather.” 

“…shut…up…” Harry whispered, and Snape sniffed, although Harry didn’t know whether it was from derision or amusement.

“How like your father you are, Potter. Even when you are at the brink of death and entirely at my mercy, your arrogance is still enviable.” Harry gasped in pain, and Snape looked at him quickly. “Come on, we’re almost there Potter. Keep going. Think of all the interviews you’ll be able to give once you’re there, think of all the attention you’ll receive.”

“…don’t…want…” Harry panted incoherently. “…stupid…”

“I hope you’re not referring to me as stupid, Potter. Do remember that your life is in my hands.”

“…not…”

“Save your breath,” Snape interrupted. “Come on, we’re almost there.” Harry’s body went limp again, although his ragged breathing was still audible. Tightening his grip around Harry’s waist, Snape literally dragged him down the road and up the hill to Hogwarts. Cursing the fact that it was growing dark and no one could see them, Snape climbed wearily up the steps to the Entrance Hall. A small girl was walking along the corridor and stopped at once when she saw Snape and Harry.

“You, where’s the Headmaster?” Snape snapped at her.

“In…in the Great Hall,” she gasped. “It’s dinner…”

“Go and fetch him!” Snape ordered, but the girl simply stood there, rooted to the stop and staring at Harry. “Fifty points from whichever House you’re in for your incapability,” Snape sneered, walking past her as fast Harry would let him. 

Voices were coming from inside the Great Hall, and Harry prayed that Dumbledore would be in there; he didn’t think he could stay awake any longer. Black swirls were flickering in front of his eyes, and his breathing was incredibly painful. Snape pushed the door open with his foot, as his left arm was around Harry’s waist and his right was keeping Harry’s arm over his shoulders. He staggered into the Great Hall, his eyes seeking out Dumbledore. The hall fell completely silent as the pair entered it. Dumbledore stood up at once, hurrying towards the two. The students stood up to get a better view of Harry, as he slumped against Snape, his face grey and bloodstained, his breathing loud and rasping. Ron, Hermione and Ginny pushed through the crowd until they were at the front, staring in horror at Harry.

“Stand back, all of you!” ordered Dumbledore loudly. “Severus, what’s happened? How is he?”

“He’s not good, Headmaster. I couldn’t conjure him a stretcher because I didn’t have my wand, so he had to walk here. It was the Cruciatus curse…and the Exurus curse,” he said, shooting a significant look at the Headmaster. Dumbledore nodded and waved his wand, a stretcher appearing next to Harry. Snape let go of Harry for a second in order to bring the stretcher closer, but without support Harry’s legs gave way at once and he fell to the floor.

“Harry!” Ginny said, stepping forward in panic. Professor McGonagall stuck out an arm to hold her back.

“He’ll be fine, Miss Weasley,” she said, although her face betrayed her doubt. “Everyone sit back down at their tables!” she ordered. “This is not some spectacle to be gawped at! SIT DOWN!” The students slunk back to their tables, whispering amongst themselves. McGonagall turned to Ginny, Hermione and Ron, who had not moved. “I understand your concern, but Potter needs to be treated. I will inform you as soon as there is any news.” She turned her back on them and hurried after Dumbledore and Snape, who were walking quickly alongside the floating stretcher with Harry on it. Professor McGonagall tried not to notice that one of Harry’s arms was handing limply off it, his pale fingers brushing the ground.  

“How bad is he, Severus?”

“Bad,” Snape replied bluntly. “I don’t know how long he was tortured for but he has no feeling in his legs and half his nerves don’t seem to be working. I made him try to squeeze my hand but I could barely feel it. His lungs are filling up with blood very quickly. I didn’t have my wand so I couldn’t help him,” he said again, slightly defensively.

“You did all you could, Severus,” Dumbledore said gravely. “I am certain that you have saved his life.”

“If he survives,” Snape pointed out.

“Severus!” McGonagall reprimanded, shocked.

“It’s true, Minerva,” said Dumbledore, his face very solemn. “He is in great danger. Here’s Flitwick’s office, this is the nearest fireplace we can floo from. He needs to go to St Mungo’s.” Professor Flitwick squeaked in alarm and shock and Harry was brought in, still unconscious. Pulling Harry upright from his stretcher (there was not enough room for it in the fireplace) Dumbledore pinned the boy to him, supported by McGonagall and Snape. Taking a pinch of floo powder each, they flung it down and shouted “St Mungo’s!”, green flames obscuring them until they were visible no more. In the few seconds it took before they arrive, Dumbledore looked down to the unconscious Harry slumped against him, feeling his breath getting fainter and fainter. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed…prayed that there was something the Healers could do…prayed that Harry would recover…prayed that they weren’t too late...  



	21. Recovery

  
****

21

****

 

Harry Potter’s eyes flickered open slowly, his emerald green eyes unusually muted. The room was bright - too bright - and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Harry! Harry, can you hear me?”

Harry tried to say that he could but no sounds came from his mouth; his throat was tight, constricted. He tried to nod but the effort made him nauseous. He managed to make a small sound in his throat.

“Oh Harry, thank goodness. We’ve all been so worried. We thought for a while that you…well, never mind…you’re awake now. Here, drink this. Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood if you don’t.” 

Harry felt strong hands pull him into a sitting position, and he opened his eyes again gingerly. Remus Lupin was sitting next to him on a chair beside the bed, holding out a foul smelling purple potion. Harry gulped the potion down, realising that he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. 

“Feel any better?” Remus asked, leaning forward and taking the empty glass away.

“Yeah,” Harry managed. “How long…?”

“You’ve been in the hospital wing for five days, and before that you were in St Mungo’s for three days. You’ve been unconscious for eight days in total. We’ve all been…well, we’ve all been very worried.”

“What happened?” Harry muttered, unable to believe he’d been unconscious that long.

“Don’t you remember?” Remus asked, a worried look passing over his face. “The Death Eaters? In Hogsmeade?” Harry nodded. Remus looked at him intently, concern and sympathy written in his features. “You’ve been though a huge ordeal, Harry. The Healers at St Mungo’s said it was one of the worst torture cases they’ve ever seen. Apparently the Cruciatus curse, if it’s followed by a nerve-burning curse, is usually lethal. You see, the Cruciatus curse inflames every pain sensor you have, and your body needs time to recover itself. It’s at its most vulnerable after that. Unfortunately for you, you were hit by the nerve-burning curse almost straight after, which meant that it inflicted twice as much damage as usual. You’ve got a long road to recovery ahead of you, Harry. But you’ll make it.” He smiled faintly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve felt better,” he said dully.

“Can you feel your legs?”

Harry twitched them tentatively. “Yeah. They feel funny though. Weak.”

Remus nodded. “That’s to be expected. You’ll regain your strength with time, Harry.” Harry said nothing, looking at the bumps under the cover that were his feet. The door swung open suddenly and Madam Pomfrey, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked in, talking amongst themselves. When they saw that Harry was awake, they stopped.

“Harry!” Ginny cried, running towards him and sinking into the second chair next to his bed. She kissed him lightly and took one of his hands in hers. Hermione hugged him, looking quite tearful.

“Alright Harry?” Ron said, a grin spreading over his face.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, wondering why he didn’t feel the usual happiness that came when he was with his two best friends and Ginny. They asked him repeatedly how he felt, to which he repeatedly claimed that he was “fine”. Ron seemed very interested in the nerve-burning curse, but whenever he tried to ask Harry about it Hermione shushed him angrily.

“Harry mate, you can’t imagine how worried everyone’s been. You should see what the Prophet’s been writing! You’ve had about a million get well cards from people at school and people who don’t even know you; mum’s sorting them out for you. No one really knew what was happening. They didn’t know when you’d wake or anything, so of course everyone’s been thinking the worst… When Snape burst into the Great Hall with you hanging off him…well, no one talked about anything else for days! Talk about dramatic entrances…” He shook his head in wonder. 

Harry said nothing. He wished it could have been someone else who had found him; anyone would have been better than Snape.

“Dumbledore was so worried,” said Hermione earnestly. “When Snape let go of you and you collapsed, his face was just…” She shook her head, apparently unable to find the words the describe Dumbledore’s expression. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s been up here loads. Professor McGonagall has too; she’s been so worried, Harry. In Transfiguration she’s been really strange, really twitchy, and she hasn’t set any homework since either!” she finished, sounding rather disappointed.

“Let me get to my patient, please,” Madam Pomfrey said irritably, pushing Ron and Hermione aside and feeling Harry’s forehead. “It’s always you, isn’t it?” she said disapprovingly. “You might as well move in, the amount of times you’re in here.”

“Oh, Harry!” said Ginny suddenly, lowering her voice slightly. “The Daily Prophet did a retraction about you being the Chosen One.”

“What?” Harry said in confusion, a frown creasing his face. “Why? I thought they knew?”

“They never had proof, if you remember Harry,” Remus interjected. “They just had a source stating what the prophecy said. And seeing as you’ve never confirmed it…well, you’ve never even talked about it,” he added reproachfully, “it was just their word against yours.”

“Well, why have they retracted it now?” Harry said, still confused.

“Dunno,” Ron said with a shrug, “but I think it’s got to be Dumbledore. Basically, the Prophet just said that the source stating the prophecy has been found to be ‘unreliable’, so it’s unsubstantiated whether you are in fact the Chosen One. They said it’s just a theory.” He paused. “To be honest though, most people still think you are.”

Harry was silent. For some reason, he just wanted to be alone. As he wondered what would be the nicest way to ask everyone to go, the door opened again and Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall swept in.

“Harry!” said Professor McGonagall in obvious relief. “Thank heavens you’re awake!” She paused, seemingly trying to get a grip on herself. “Good to have you back, Potter,” she said finally, rather crisply. Ginny smirked.

“Harry,” said Dumbledore, taking a step towards him, his blue eyes twinkling. “It’s wonderful to have you back amongst the living…finally,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said stiffly, looking away. He saw Remus and Dumbledore exchange glances.

“Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Mr Weasley…I am aware that all I seem to do is prevent you from visiting Harry in the hospital wing, but I must ask you once again to leave Harry for a while. Professor McGonagall will inform you when you can return.” Looking slightly put out, three got to their feet and left, Ginny giving Harry’s hand a quick squeeze as she left. “Remus, Minerva,” Dumbledore continued, “I would not usually ask, but I would like to speak with Harry alone.” Taking the hint, the two left the room. Remus gave Harry a quick hug before he left.

“I’ll be up to se you again very soon, Harry,” he said quietly, and Harry nodded. When they had gone and door had been shut, Dumbledore walked slowly over to the chair that Remus had just vacated, and sat down gently.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” he said softly. Harry shrugged. “Harry?” Dumbledore repeated.

“I’m fine,” Harry said with difficulty, avoiding his Headmaster‘s gaze. Dumbledore sighed.

“Harry, no one expects you to be fine,” he said lightly. “You have been though a lot.”

“I’m getting used to it,” Harry replied curtly, determinedly looking in the other direction. He felt very odd; he was angry, but he wasn’t sure why. He felt as though he didn’t care about anything, he had no interests, no curiosity about anything.

“Please look at me,” Dumbledore said, his voice still soft. Harry continued looking away. “Why won’t you look at me, Harry?”

“Because I don’t want to, sir.” Harry replied simply.

“Why not?

“ _Because_ ,” Harry said, as if Dumbledore was being very stupid, “ _I don’t want to_.” 

“Harry,” Dumbledore began, but Harry cut him off.

“I just want to be left alone,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to go, Harry. Not until you’ve talked to me,” Dumbledore said firmly, and Harry finally turned to him, his eyes flashing angrily.

“Fine! What do you want to know?” 

“I want to know what happened,” Dumbledore answered simply. “From the beginning.”

“Fine! I was walking in Hogsmeade and my scar hurt, and I knew that some Death Eaters were coming, along with some dementors,” Harry said, very quickly. “I got rid of the dementors, and then I was told to go back to Hogwarts with two Aurors. Four Death Eaters appeared and killed one of them. The other Auror stunned one of the Death Eaters, and I did another. Then the other Auror was killed too and the remaining two Death Eaters came after me. It was Dolohov and Goyle. They disarmed me and tortured me, and then I managed to curse them and get away. I tried to walk back to the castle but I couldn’t. And then Snape found me,” he finished dispassionately. 

Dumbledore was silent for a short while after this, and then spoke. “Thank you, Harry. I have a few questions for you now, if you don’t mind.” Harry shrugged again. “Firstly, how did you know the Death Eaters and dementors were coming?”

“I dunno. My scar hurt for a bit, and then I just knew. It was just…in my head, like someone had told me.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Do you know where Goyle and Dolohov are? Would they still be there?”

“Dolohov won’t be, I doubt. I only stunned him, so it would have worn off by now.”

“And Goyle?”

“He’s probably dead,” Harry said indifferently 

“Dead? How?”

“He tried to curse me, but I blocked it and it rebounded onto him. Some kind of cutting curse. He fell down screaming, there was blood everywhere. I managed to kick his wand away so he couldn’t reach it. And then I left.”

“You didn’t try and stop the bleeding?”

“No,” Harry said contemptuously. “Why should I have? They were torturing me.”

Dumbledore was silent again for a while, his fingers stroking his beard. “You didn’t have your wand on you, Harry, yet you managed to not only raise your shield, but also to stun Dolohov?”

“Yes,” Harry said unconcernedly.

“Impressive,” Dumbledore said, although he didn’t look impressed. “And did either Dolohov or Goyle say anything illuminating about Voldemort?”

Harry thought for a moment. “They said he didn’t want me dead. They said they were ordered to just take me back to him, because I was his.” Dumbledore nodded, as if that was what he thought Harry would say. “Is there anything else?” Harry said sarcastically.

“Yes. Why are you feeling like this, Harry?”

“I’m not feeling like anything,” Harry said irrationally. When Dumbledore continued to look at him he spoke again, angrily. “I’m just sick of it! All of it! I just want it to end, I don’t want to have to…have to always try to escape, always have to worry about when I’m next going to have to face Voldemort. I just want to be…normal.”

Dumbledore looked very sad. “I understand, Harry. You know if I had the power I would take this terrible burden off your shoulders. But I cannot. All I can do is try and help you, try and be here for you.”

Harry nodded. “Did you make the Prophet retract what they wrote about me being the Chosen One?”

“Indeed I did, Harry, although I had to gain authorisation from Rufus Scrimgeour for that. I told him on no uncertain terms that they had absolutely no proof, and unless they issued a statement saying that it is by no means fact that you are the Chosen One, we would not hesitate to sue. He did, of course, try to get me to tell him if you _were_ the Chosen One, but I declined to comment,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“Ron said most people still think I am, though,” Harry said bleakly.

“I daresay they do. But at least now they only _think_ you are…they do not know. That’s got to count for something.”

“I s’pose. Cant you…cant you tell everyone that I’m not?” Harry said hopefully, looking up.

“I can’t do that, Harry,” Dumbledore said gravely. “But I can and I will forbid anyone from asking you whether you are or not. I’ve had to give daily updates on your recovery every morning, such has been the level of interest, so tomorrow I will inform that school that they are not to ask you.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.

“Harry, there is also something else I have to tell you, something I don’t think you will like. The Ministry has ordered more Aurors to be stationed in and around Hogwarts, and I’m afraid…they want you to be guarded at all times.”

“What d’you mean?” Harry said quickly. “You mean like bodyguards?”

“I’m afraid so, Harry.”

“All the time? What about when I’m in lessons and in the Common Room and stuff?” Harry said, outraged.

“They will wait outside your lessons, and outside the Gryffindor Common Room. They will not enter it.”

“But…what about when I’m eating?”

“They will stand away from you, but they will be in the Great Hall.”

“Why? Why cant…I don’t need them! Cant you tell the Ministry not to do it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that authority. I did say I thought it was unnecessary, but I was overruled. The Ministry is rather interested in your safety, Harry.” 

Harry scowled. “Well, no one’s going to believe I’m not the Chosen One if I have two Aurors following me about, are they?”

“They might,” Dumbledore said lightly. “Everyone knows that Voldemort has some kind of personal grudge against you because of what happened when you were a baby. Perhaps they will just think he wants revenge.”

“Yeah, maybe” Harry muttered, not convinced. He looked back at Dumbledore. “Have you found anything out about the other Horcruxes, sir?”

“Not just yet, Harry. I would suggest you concentrate on getting better for the moment. That is the most important thing, after all.” He looked at Harry more closely. “How exactly are you feeling? Do you feel strange at all? Unlike yourself?”

“No, I know what you‘re getting at and I don’t feel like Voldemort is in me or anything. I just feel…”

“What, Harry?”

“I just feel like I don’t care. About anything.”

Dumbledore reached out a hand and ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’m sure that will pass. You should try to sleep now. If all goes well, Madam Pomfrey said you should be able to leave in a few days.” He stood up and smiled down at Harry. “You did very well, Harry. I’m proud of you.” Harry managed a weak smile.

 

True to his word, Remus had visited him regularly. He was concerned that Harry seemed so lacklustre, so withdrawn, but was reassured by Madam Pomfrey that Harry was still getting over his trauma, and would be back to normal in no time. Harry was released from the hospital wing three days later, on a Friday. He was almost completely better now, although he still had some nerve-related problems, which mainly meant that he was weaker than usual, but he was told that this would fade quickly, as soon as he got his strength back. When he left the hospital wing he found, to his disgust, that there were two Aurors waiting for him on other side of the door, to escort him to the Common Room.

“You’re not allowed to come in, okay?” Harry told them firmly as he climbed through the portrait hole. “You just have to wait here.” As soon as he entered the Common Room it fell silent. All the Gryffindors just stared at him in silence, until Ginny broke it.

“Alright everyone, no need to stare,” she said angrily. “You’ve all seen Harry many times before.” Harry smiled at her, grateful. “How are you?” she said gently, hugging him tightly.

“I’m fine,” Harry said automatically, wincing slightly; he was still sore.

“Come on, let’s get a seat away from everyone,” Hermione said, and the four settled down on a sofa in the far corner of the room.

“So how you feeling, Harry?” Ron asked, looking him up and down.

“I’m fine,” Harry repeated irritably. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Ron and Hermione exchanged glances but said nothing.

“So….” Hermione began, slightly awkwardly. “Fancy Snape saving your life!”

“He’s done it before, you know Hermione,” Harry said, feeling annoyed.

“I know,” she said quickly, “but it was still nice of him, wasn’t it?”

Harry looked at her in disbelief. “Nice? What, did you expect him to see me and just walk by? Anyone would have done the same…I would have done it for him.”

“I know, just…” She faltered, not sure what to say.

“What was he like when you were going back to the castle?” Ron said hurriedly.

“Like he usually is. Insulting my father, saying I was arrogant…the usual.”

“I heard Dumbledore tell Professor Lupin that Snape was deliberately antagonising you, so you would stay awake,” Hermione said hesitantly.

Harry snorted. “Well, I’m sure he found that really hard,” he said sarcastically. There was a short silence. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he said, standing up.

“Er…it’s five o’clock, mate,” Ron said, giving him an odd look.

“Yeah, well…I’m still not feeling too good, you know.”

“Oh, Harry, before you go, we’re all going to Grimmauld Place tomorrow morning,” Ginny said, standing up too. “Mum really wants to see you, and there’s an Order meeting in the evening so everyone will be there. They probably want to talk about what happened.”

“Great,” Harry said thinly. “Well, goodnight.” He turned sharply and walked up the stairs. Ron, Ginny and Hermione stared at each other.

“You know, I really hope this doesn’t last. I don’t think I can stand a repeat of last year,” Ron said.

“That’s not fair, Ron, you know he’s been through a lot,” Hermione said with a frown.

“I know, I know he has, but we can’t help him if he won’t let us. He’s just so distant, you know? I feel like we can’t reach him anymore.”

“Of course we can,” Ginny said sharply. “But not if we just give up on him like this. Can you imagine how hard it must be for him right now? Everyone talking about him, having to have guards, being tortured like that…let alone the whole prophecy thing. Try and show some sensitivity, Ron.”

“I am! All I said was that I hope he doesn’t carry on like this!” Ron said indignantly.

“Well, I’m going upstairs too,” said Ginny, standing back up and making her way to the girls’ dormitories. “See you later.”

Ron looked at Hermione. “You going to go upstairs too?” he asked, rather roughly. She smiled and took his hand. 

“No, Ron. I’m going to stay here with you.”

Ron suddenly looked very smug. 

 

 

 

 

**PLEASE REVIEW AFTER READING GUYS! :) THANKS!**

 

 


	22. A Child No More

  
22

  
“Oh Harry dear, how are you?” Mrs Weasley flung her arms around Harry tightly, and then stepped back to examine him critically. “Oh dear, look at you, you poor thing.” She brushed some ash from his t-shirt as he stepped out from the fireplace. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just take a portkey, floo is never the best way to travel, especially after injury. Oh, how are you?” she repeated anxiously.

“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley, really,” Harry said with a small smile. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had just arrived back in Grimmauld Place, and many of the Order members were fussing around him. Remus kept shooting Harry little concerned looks when he though Harry wasn’t looking.

“Lunch will be ready in an hour, you four go upstairs now and relax,” Mrs Weasley ordered, beginning to bustle round the kitchen again. The four walked upstairs to Harry’s room, Ron and Hermione sitting on the floor awkwardly, and Harry and Ginny flopping onto his bed.

“I’m going to join the Order,” Harry said suddenly, lying back and looking up at the ceiling.

“Er…” Ron said, looking at him apprehensively. “Aren’t you still too young?”

Harry shrugged dismissively. “They’re not going to stop me this time. I have as much right as any of them to join. More right,” he added savagely. There was a silence.

“Ron! Hermione!” Mrs Weasley suddenly called from downstairs. “Can you come and give me a hand with lunch?” She had obviously forgotten that she had just told them to go upstairs and ‘relax’. Hermione stood up briskly, pulling up a grumbling Ron.

“That’s Ginny’s job,” he muttered, earning himself disdainful looks from both Hermione and Ginny. The two went downstairs, shutting the door quietly behind them. Ginny lay down next to Harry, her hand stroking his cheek.

“Come on, Harry,” she said gently. “I know this must be horrible for you, but you have to try and get better.”

“I am trying, Ginny,” he said impatiently. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Harry,” she said fiercely. “Things are just getting on top of you. It’s to be expected.” She leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips, but when he didn’t respond she sighed quietly and laid her head on his chest. They lay like that for a while, Harry staring at the ceiling and Ginny listening to the quick beats of his heart.

“Ginny!” Mrs Weasley called again, a short while later. “Can you give me hand too?” Ginny stood up, pulling a face.

“Want to come down too?” she asked Harry, but he shook his head, closing his eyes. He heard her soft footsteps pat away, and the door click shut gently. He sighed heavily. What was wrong with him? He turned on to his side, staring at the wall, and then paused. He could hear Ron talking to Mrs Weasley from downstairs. That wasn’t possible, was it? A flight of stairs, a long hall and two shut doors separated him, yet he could hear them as if they were a few metres away.

“…but he still is set on joining the Order, mum,” came Ron’s voice.

“That’s out of the question, Ron,” Mrs Weasley replied firmly. “Dumbledore won’t allow it.”

“Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell him! You can do that, mum. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of Harry!”      
   
“And what do you mean by that?” Mrs Weasley said, and Harry could hear the frown in her voice.

“Well…put it this way; he’s got a bit of a temper. Actually, he’s got more than a bit of a temper. He’s bloody scary when he’s angry!”

“Well, that’s to be expected, with everything he’s been though. Poor boy,” she said fondly.

Harry turned over again, feeling even more irritated. It wasn’t because of what Ron had said; Harry knew it was true, and Ron had told himself more than once. It was the fact that everyone - at least the Order members - seemed to talk about him as if he was some kind of little boy everyone had to tip-toe around, everyone had to feel sorry for, and look out for. Harry scowled.

“Harry! Lunch is ready!” Mrs Weasley called again, and Harry got up leisurely and made his way downstairs. He could hear voices in the kitchen; there seemed to be quite a few people in there. He opened the door and walked in slowly. Quite a few Order members were in there, as well as most of the Weasley family. Mrs Weasley beamed at him as she took the food to the table.

“Boo!” 

A voice behind Harry startled him, and within a second he had drawn his wand and had pressed it to the throat of whoever had spoken. It turned out to be a rather nervous looking Fred, who was clutching a purple bag in one hand, his face slowly turning a similar shade. Harry lowered his wand quickly, looking mortified.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You made me jump.”

There was a silence, and then Mrs Weasley broke it.

“Fred Weasley! You are the most tactless boy I have ever met!” she said, sounding outraged. “Jumping up on Harry like that, after everything that’s just happened…!”

“No, Mrs Weasley, really it’s fine,” Harry said wearily. “It was my fault, I…”

“It was most certainly not your fault, Harry dear! Fred, what on earth were you thinking?”

“Sorry Harry,” said Fred, looking unusually abashed. “I just wanted to show you the new stock from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.” He gestured to the purple bag he was holding. “I didn’t really think about…you know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry muttered. “Sorry for sticking my wand in you.”

“No need to say sorry for that, Potter,” growled Moody from across the room, where he was standing next to Remus and Tonks. “It could have been anyone, best to prepare for the worst! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked.

“Er…yeah,” Harry said, wishing everyone would stop staring at him. Lunch was a fairly pleasant affair, with everyone carefully not mentioning Death Eaters or Voldemort. Instead, Mrs Weasley bombarded Harry and Ginny with questions about how they finally got together.

“Muuum,” Ginny protested after Mrs Weasley had gone on for about five minutes. “I’ve already told you all this about three times!”

“I know, Ginny dear, but it makes me so happy to see you both together. I did always hope that it would happen, but I wasn’t sure. Of course, Ginny’s had a crush on you for years, Harry,” (Ginny blushed furiously at this, and Fred and George snickered) “but I wondered how long it would take you to see her as more than Ron’s sister.” She beamed. “Ah, young love!”

Harry felt himself flush. He wished she would stop talking about it; he was very aware of the evil grins Fred and George kept shooting at him, and the amused glances that were coming from Tonks and Remus. He especially didn’t want anyone talking about ‘young love’ - he wasn’t sure if he loved Ginny yet, and until he was, he didn’t want anyone using the word. After everyone had finished, the four went back upstairs again, this time followed by Fred and George, who proceeded to give lively demonstrations of their new products. They spent a few hours chatting and playing exploding snap, and then Harry felt tired. Ron, Ginny and Hermione went downstairs so he could have a nap, and Harry settled down on his bed, his head pounding painfully. He woke a few hours later, the sun beginning to set behind heavy, mauve clouds. He walked downstairs and into the living room, where he could hear Ron’s voice. Ron and Ginny were playing a game of wizard chess, which Hermione was watching from the sofa. Ron looked up as Harry entered. 

“They’re having an Order meeting,” he said miserably. “They’re all in the kitchen…everyone.”

“Right,” Harry said firmly, spinning on his heel and beginning to march down the hall.

“Harry, what are you doing? You can’t just walk in!” Hermione said anxiously, hurrying after him.

“Yeah? Watch me,” Harry replied stubbornly. He tried the doorknob but it was charmed shut, so he raised a fist and hammered loudly on the door. When no one answered he hammered again, this time louder.

“Harry, you’re mental,” said Ron weakly. “It’s a full Order meeting.”

“Good. Hopefully we can make some progress tonight then,” Harry retorted. The door swung open suddenly and Snape stuck his head round.

“Oh, I should have realised it would be you, Potter,” he sneered. “This is an Order meeting, you’re not allowed in.” He made to shut the door in Harry’s face but Harry stuck his foot in the gap.

“Excuse me, Professor,” he said calmly. “I’d like a word with the Headmaster.” He walked in the room quickly, followed by Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

“Come on, children, upstairs now!” said Mrs Weasley, standing up as they came in. “This is a meeting!” Harry noticed the room was fuller than he had ever seen it. As well as the usual Order members, there were many other witches and wizards who he did not recognise, all of whom were staring at him curiously. There seemed to be about thirty people in the room. The chairs were seated in a rough circle, the large kitchen table having been pushed to one side.

“Harry, is there something you wanted to say?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“Yes, there is,” said Harry loudly. “I’ve decided it’s time I joined the Order.” At once, the room was filled with shouts and protestations, and Harry turned round to face everyone, his face blank.

“Harry, you can’t join the Order, it’s just not on!” Mrs Weasley said passionately.

“Potter, there is no chance that you will be joining the Order today, so I suggest you leave now,” Snape said silkily. “It’s just ridiculous.”  
    
“Why?” Harry said angrily, turning to Snape. “Why is it ridiculous?”

“Harry, I understand why you want to join, but I really don’t think it is a good idea,” Dumbledore said softly, meeting Harry’s angry gaze unflinchingly.

“Why?” Harry challenged. “Give me one good reason why I can’t join.”

“You’re too young!” Mrs Weasley said at once, folding her arms and looking up at Harry angrily. 

“I’m of age in a few months time!” Harry argued. “What difference does that make?  

“Harry, you’re fighting a losing battle,” Ron said with a grimace. “Just leave it.”

“No, I will not leave it!” Harry spat at Ron. “These decisions affect me more than anyone, and I’m not having all you lot just sit here and decide what’s going to happen. I’m not a bloody pawn you can move around to see what happens. From now on I make my own decisions, not you lot.”

“Harry, I forbid it! I won’t allow it!” Mrs Weasley said, looking close to tears.

“You’re not my mother, I don’t need your permission,” Harry said coldly. Mrs Weasley looked as though he had slapped her.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to join, Mr Potter,” piped up a middle-aged witch that Harry didn’t know. Harry whirled around to face her.

“WELL, I DON’T KNOW WHAT MY MOTHER WOULD HAVE WANTED ME TO DO, BECAUSE THANKS TO VOLDEMORT, I DON’T KNOW HER!” he yelled, and the witch actually shrank back in her chair. Unfounded anger was surging up in Harry over the utter unfairness of it all. How dare these people try to stop him from joining?

“Harry, there is no need for you to join the Order,” Mr Weasley said, in a would-be-calm voice. 

“Of course there’s a need for me to join! The Order’s not exactly doing very well so far is it?”

“We’re doing okay,” said Bill defensively.

“Oh really?” Harry asked icily. “And what is the purpose of the Order, Bill?”

“Well, it’s to try and catch as many Death Eaters as possible, protect you…”

“Protect me?” Harry repeated scathingly. “If I remember rightly, the Order did a pretty shit job of trying to protect me the other week, didn’t they Bill? Or is that your idea of protection? Leaving me to face four Death Eaters, get tortured for God knows how long and then spend the night choking on my own blood! WHERE WAS THE ORDER THEN?”

There was a short silence after this, and then a wizard Harry didn’t know spoke. 

“Nobody is denying that you have suffered Mr Potter, but the Order has strict rules about children joining.”

“I’m sixteen,” Harry said coldly. The man nodded.

 “You are still a child.”  

“I AM NOT…A…CHILD!” Harry yelled, suddenly furious. “My childhood ended a long time ago! My childhood ended when Voldemort killed another student in front of me and used my blood to come back! My childhood ended when I was forced to duel with Voldemort when I was fourteen years old! I am not a child!”

“Not being a child doesn’t mean you automatically join the Order, Harry,” said Charlie, his arms folded. Harry stared at him.

“I can’t believe this,” he said slowly. “I actually cannot believe this. Who are you all relying on to kill Voldemort? Who are you all talking about in your meetings? ME! Look at you all, you can’t even hear his name without flinching! You’re pathetic! VOLDEMORT! It’s just a name, and you all flinch as if it hurts you. Wow, I’m really pleased I have all you lot to look after me,” he said sarcastically.

“Now that you’ve made your point, Potter, please leave,” Snape said darkly.

“No, I will not leave! I am not leaving this room until I am an Order member. I can’t believe how incredibly stupid all you people are being. This is MY house, don’t you dare try to chuck me out. I am more qualified that any of you to join the Order! How many of you have been forced to face Voldemort five times, when you’re not even of age? How many of you have nightmares and visions about what he’s feeling? How many of get your mind invaded by him so much that he actually talks to you? How many of you are hunted constantly by him and his Death Eaters so much you have to have your own guards?”   
He paused for breath, shaking from head to toe. The room was completely silent. Harry felt angrier than ever. “HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FUCKING PROPHECY ABOUT YOU AND HIM? HOW MANY OF YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN NEVER REALLY LIVE UNTIL HE’S DEAD BECAUSE HE WILL NEVER STOP HUNTING YOU?” Most of the room were staring at Harry with a mixture of fear and pity. Dumbledore had his head bowed. Harry ploughed on, knowing that if he stopped he would probably break down. “VOLDEMORT HAS TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM ME! EVERYTHING! EVEN WHEN IT ENDS, EVEN IF I KILL HIM, I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL, I WILL NEVER BE OKAY, BECAUSE HE HAS TAKEN TOO MUCH FROM ME! I AM SIXTEEN YEARS OLD AND I HAVE BEEN THROUGH MORE THAN ANY OF YOU, AND I AM NOT GOING TO PUT UP WITH YOUR BULLSHIT ANYMORE!” Harry felt angry tears spring into his eyes, and he blinked them angrily away. He felt a hand touch his shoulder lightly.

“Okay Harry,” Remus said softly. “Take a seat.”

“I don’t think we’ve reached a decision about Potter joining yet, Lupin,” Snape said coolly.

“I think it’s come to the point where no decision is needed,” Remus replied calmly, guiding Harry into a seat. “Am I right, Albus?”

Dumbledore was still sitting with his head bowed, next to a rather shell-shocked Professor McGonagall. He raised his head. “If you mean do I agree with Harry joining, then yes, Remus, I do.” He suddenly looked very drained, very old and very sad. He sighed deeply. “Thank you for your most illuminating…talk, Harry. One of the perils of being old is that we tend to see the young as children for far longer than they are. I agree that your childhood has been far shorter than it should have been, and I know you are no longer a child. Shall we begin then?”

“Wait,” Mrs Weasley said quickly. “Ron, Ginny, Hermione…upstairs.” They opened their mouths to protest furiously, but Mrs Weasley drowned out all three. “You do not have the same excuses or experiences as Harry!” she all but shrieked. “Upstairs!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything when I come up,” Harry said loudly, which was met by delighted smiles from Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and murmurs of disapproval from most others. “They’re involved as much as any of you, probably more. If you hadn’t noticed, people who I care about often get used as bait,” Harry said bitterly.  

“Now that you are an Order member, Potter, you’d do well to realise that we usually discuss matters in more level tones…shouting and swearing is not usually the norm,” Snape sneered. Harry ignored him.

  
The meeting was surprisingly short, and Harry didn’t learn much he didn’t know already. There had been another Death Eater attack the previous night, but there had been no fatalities. Harry was interested to hear that Goyle’s body had been recovered from where Harry had left it; he had apparently bled to death. Harry felt a strange pleasure in this, and he struggled to keep his face impassive.

“Does Harry need to go to the Ministry about this?” Kingsley asked. “Usually you have to make a statement for case like this, even if it was a Death Eater.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, I spoke to Rufus Scrimgeour about it and, although he was keen to have Harry in, I told him that it was simply an act of self defence and nothing was to be gained be delving into the matter any further.”

A few heads turned to look at Harry. It registered on him that he had actually killed someone…someone had bled to death because of him. He found that it didn’t really bother him.

“The Ministry said that he was killed by an Auror,” said a wizard with a long beard. “Why are they covering up the fact that it was Potter?”

“I am here, you know,” Harry muttered irritably, annoyed that the man was talking as if he wasn’t present.

“Again, that was my doing,” Dumbledore said. “I managed to persuade Rufus that it would mean Harry would be in even more danger from Voldemort. Also, there is the small matter than Goyle’s son is in Harry’s year at school. I felt it wouldn’t bode well if he blamed Harry for his father’s death.”

Snape tutted. “Yes, Gregory Goyle is very distressed,” he said, looking accusingly at Harry.

“What, was I supposed to just lie there and let him curse me?” Harry said, flaring up again.

Snape sneered. “Of course not. However, it is…interesting…that you seem to have decided stunning spells are too mundane for you. Perhaps you think cutting curses are more…glamorous?”

“He used it on me!” Harry said hotly. “It rebounded on him because I blocked it - it was his fault!”

“Then you must have put up a very strong shield to deflect a curse like that, Potter. Interesting that you managed to do it without your wand,” Snape said, his lip curling.

Harry stared at him. “Are you trying to imply that I shot the curse at him myself?” he asked incredulously. Snape said nothing. “Well, that really makes sense,” he said sarcastically. “Apparently it’s unbelievable that I could put up shield without my wand, and yet far more likely that I managed to produce an offensive curse with it!” 

“You managed to stun Dolohov without your wand,” Snape pointed out.

“So?” Harry said defensively. “Exactly what point are you trying to make, Snape?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Professor Snape, Potter. You would do well to remember that I am your teacher. As my student, I can give you whatever punishment I see fit.” 

Harry gave a sarcastic laugh. “Well, you’ve got me running scared now. I s’pose Voldemort and his Death Eaters are nothing on detention in the dungeons with you, are they?”

Snape’s eyes glittered. “I can make life very hard for you, Potter,” he said softly.

“Wow, I wonder what it would be like to have a hard life,” Harry said mockingly. They glared at each other before Snape turned to Dumbledore.

“Headmaster, I often think we are wasting our time in trying to protect a boy who seems determined to meet the same sticky end as his parents and godfather.” Harry and Remus jumped to their feet.

“Sirius was twice the man you’ll ever be!” Harry hissed.

“ENOUGH!” Dumbledore said loudly, his face furious. “What chance do we have if we can’t even hold a meeting without being divided? Harry, Remus…sit down. Severus, your comment was out of line.”

The meeting finished shortly afterwards and Snape left immediately, after giving Harry a look of pure loathing, which Harry returned. When everyone had left the kitchen apart from the Weasleys and Remus, Harry stood up slowly.

“Er…Mrs Weasley?” he said quietly. She turned to face him. “Er…I’m really sorry if I upset you…with what I said earlier. It’s just…I was frustrated with everyone trying to stop me joining and…well, I didn’t mean it. I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me,” he said, looking at the floor. She enveloped him in a warm hug.

“Of course, dear. I understand. There’s no need to say anything else, don’t worry.” Harry leaned into her slightly and felt, if it were possible, even worse. 

 

 

 

(Aww, poor Harry! Are you getting sick of angry Harry yet?? I wanted to make him happier but since his torture he doesnt seem to want to be...sorry! He'll be a bit snappy/crazy for few more chapters, and then *something* will happen that means he stops feeling sorry for himself... (mostly!)  
In my draft for this I planned to have finished by chapter 20, but as you can see it keeps getting longer! I keep getting new ideas and wanting to put them in! PLEASE REVIEW of you haven't already...and if you have, please review again! All comments/suggestions greatly appreciated! :D )


	23. The Dursley Detriment

  
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23

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Harry tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible when he returned to Hogwarts, but that was easier said than done when you had two burly Aurors on either side on you, marching you down corridors to lessons and meals. Harry drew even more stares than previously, as many people thought the fact that he was forced to have trained guards with him all the time gave him a sort of edgy glamour. The Slytherins taunted Harry about it, but they were forced to keep their mockery within the constraints of the classroom, for even Draco Malfoy wasn’t confident enough to try to provoke Harry when he was with his Aurors.

Harry didn’t notice that he gained any more new abilities, although he did tell Dumbledore about the fact that he could sometimes hear things from very far away. Again, Dumbledore informed him that extra sensitive hearing was not a characteristic of Voldemort, so it must be Harry’s own ability. Harry didn’t really understand this, and Dumbledore tried to explain.

“When someone puts themselves through intensive magical training - particularly when they are still very young - it can have the result of encouraging their raw magical skills to flourish. Every witch or wizard has this, Harry, but usually it lies dormant, because it needs to be coaxed out. It is my guess that all your intensive training has stimulated this in you, and I am sure your connection to Voldemort has increased it too. This explains your ability to perform extensive wandless magic.”

“So it’s good, right?” Harry asked warily. “I mean, I don’t need to watch out for it that much, do I?”

“It is always best to be cautious, Harry. Your untamed magical skills runs inside you, like a current, and sometimes one can lose control over it. My only worry is that when your brain is relaxed - when you are sleeping, in other words - Voldemort may pair this with his Occlumency skills attempt to use you to do things.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked quickly, growing cold. “Like attack people?”

“That would probably be his ultimate goal, but I doubt he has power enough over you to make you do that, Harry; do not look so concerned. It is best for you to concentrate on your studies, and your health. It is also imperative to remember your friends; you should not push them away in times like these,” Dumbledore said, leaning forward and giving Harry a penetrating look.

Harry spent quite a lot of time with Ginny in the few weeks before Easter. He found he was happiest when they didn’t talk. Ginny often tried to make him open up to her and talk about how he was feeling, and although he sometimes did, he preferred it when they just went for walks around the lake, holding hands. Harry was coming to rely on Ginny more and more, purely in the sense that if she was there, if she was near him, he immediately felt more relaxed and less troubled. He was still slightly withdrawn and rather aloof, but Hermione and Ron seemed to understand, and did not push him on the matter.

Three days before Easter, Ron came running into the Common Room, his face white.

“They’ve attacked Grimmauld Place!” he whispered, dragging the other three into a corner of the room. “The Death Eaters! McGonagall just told me!” 

“What?” Harry said in disbelief. “But they can’t have! They don’t know where it is!”

Ron shook his head. “Apparently it had something to do with Narcissa Malfoy,” he said darkly. “Because she was related to Sirius she managed to find a loophole in the Black Inheritance thing which meant that she could seek refuge if she had nowhere else to go!”

“But she does!” Harry said hotly. “They have their Malfoy Manner!”

“Yeah I know. BUT they’ve just sold it; apparently she’s claiming that she can’t afford it with Lucius Malfoy being in Azkaban.”

“Of course she can afford it, the Malfoys are loaded!”

“I know. McGonagall reckons it was all a ploy to find out where the Order headquarters are located.”

“Is everyone okay?” Ginny asked worriedly. Ron nodded.

“Yeah. It was only mum and Moody there at the time, and they managed to disapparate to the Burrow, where new wards are being up. Apparently we’re going to use it as Headquarters for now on.”

Harry nodded, and then a realisation hit him. “Hey! Grimmauld Place is mine! It’s got all of Sirius’s stuff in it! And there are Death Eaters in there?” His face darkened and he actually took a step towards the portrait hole as if he was about to rush to Grimmauld Place. Hermione grabbed his arms exasperatedly.

“Harry, don’t be silly! They won’t still be there! Will they?” She looked questioningly at Ron and he shook his head.

“Nah, they went pretty much straight after they got there. Just wanted to prove that they knew where it was and force us out - make things harder for us. Anyway, McGonagall wants to see you, Harry. She’s in her office.” 

Harry walked briskly to Professor McGonagall’s office, his face grim.

“Professor? You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes. Sit down, Potter.” Professor McGonagall indicated a straight-backed chair opposite her desk. She had acted slightly different around Harry ever since his shouting fit at Grimmauld Place; Harry rather thought she was wary of provoking his wrath. “I am sure Weasley has informed of what happened regarding Grimmauld place?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. Hopefully you will understand the dilemma this places us in.” Harry looked confused, and she sighed. “Potter, Grimmauld Place was a secret location, known only by the Order members, therefore you were safe there. The Burrow, for all its new wards, is not safe for you. It is known that the Weasleys live there, and it is known that the family is close to you. If it gets out that you are staying there, there will undoubtedly be an attack, and we cannot place you, or the Weasleys, in that danger.”

“So what are you saying, Professor,” Harry said slowly, although he thought he knew what was coming.

“You must be placed in an alternate location, Potter.”

“Not the Dursleys‘,” Harry said flatly, pleading with her with his eyes.

“There is nowhere else for you to go. I’m sorry, Potter.”

“But…I’ll stay here! I don’t mind staying here on my own, really!”

“That is not an option, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Headmaster does not think Hogwarts is as safe as it used to be,” she said bluntly. “The Hogsmeade attack proved that the enemy are far more willing than we had thought to push our boundaries. The blood magic your mother set up means that you will be safe with the muggles. Professor Dumbledore will be absent for long periods at a time over the Easter break, and therefore the school will be more vulnerable.” She frowned slightly as she said this, and Harry guessed that Dumbledore had not informed her of where he would be going. He presumed it must have something to do with the Horcruxes.

“Please, Professor…isn’t there anywhere else?” Harry said desperately. “You can’t make me go back there…you don’t understand!”

Professor McGonagall’s face softened slightly. “I am aware that it is difficult living with them, Potter. But there is not much choice. I am sure your friends will be able to visit you there. Either Professor Dumbledore or myself will accompany you there and speak to the muggles, to ensure that you are treated well whilst you are there.” 

Harry gave a mirthless laugh. “It won’t make a difference, Professor. It never does.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking slightly worried. “What do they do?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not what _they_ do…it’s what being in that place does to _me_. It’s just…” he shook his head again in frustration and looked down. “Never mind. I‘ll go.”

She nodded at him. “That is very mature, Potter. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to ask you a question…about the prophecy.” Harry nodded. “As you know, the Prophet retracted its statement about you being the Chosen One. I have asked Professor Dumbledore what is the truth surrounding this matter, but he told me that it was not his truth to tell. I noticed that you referred to the prophecy whilst you were stating your reasons for joining the Order the other week.” Her eyebrows rose slightly at this, and Harry flushed as her remembered exactly what he had said. “If you would tell me…I would like to know whether it is true or not. As your Head of House, and teacher…and someone who has known you for a long time…I have your best interests at heart.” She paused expectantly.

Harry let out his breath. He didn’t really mind the Order knowing, as long as it didn’t get out to the rest of the world. Besides, he _had_ used it as a reason for his joining the Order. “Yeah, it’s true Professor.”

“And the exact wording? Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath. “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives_.” He said it in a dull, emotionless way that somehow had the effect of making it sound even more sinister than usual.

She looked at him quite silently for a while, her face impassive. Then she spoke, slowly, as if every word cost her effort. 

“Potter…Harry…” Harry looked up at her rare use of his first name. “Your parents would be very proud of you…very proud indeed. I hope you know that.”

Harry looked back at her, surprise written over his face. “Thank you,” he said finally.

She gave him a fleeting smile and dismissed him.

 

It was a Friday afternoon towards the end of March, and the sun was shining weakly through the trees. Vernon Dursley stepped out of his shiny car and made his way to the door, whistling tunelessly through his teeth.

“Hello Petunia,” he said, as his wife kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Dudders not back yet?”

“No Vernon, he’s gone to the park again with his friends,” Petunia replied, ushering her husband in. “Good day at work?” Before Vernon could answer, however, the doorbell rang.

“Strange,” Vernon muttered. “I’ve just come in and I didn’t see anyone about.” He strode over to the door and swung it open. 

“YOU!”

“Hello, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said dully. Petunia hurried forward to see what the matter was; Vernon was making strange, spluttering noises. She gasped. Harry was standing at the door, looking taller and broader than she remembered, but pale and utterly miserable. Next to him stood an older woman, her hair in a neat bun and spectacles on her bony nose.

“What are you doing here, boy?” Vernon barked. “Has your freak school finally expelled you?”

Harry said nothing, but the woman next to him bristled indignantly. “Harry had most certainly not been expelled!” she said severely. “Unforeseen circumstances mean that he will have to reside here rather than at his late godfather’s house over the Easter period.”

“Late godfather?” Vernon said sharply. “He’s dead, then?”

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry in surprise. “You didn’t tell them?” 

Harry shrugged.

“Why can’t he stay at his school then? That’s what he usually does! We don’t want him here!” 

Professor McGonagall pulled herself up to her full height, her nostrils flaring. “Whether you want him is neither here nor there. Now if you will kindly step inside, there are a few matters I would like to discuss with you before I leave. It is not safe to linger outside in these troubled times.”

Vernon looked like he had no intention of letting the two in, but Petunia tugged at his arm.

“Let them in, Vernon. The neighbours will talk.” She opened the door to the living room and stepped in, indicating that the other three should too. She and Vernon sat down in their armchairs, and Harry and Professor McGonagall sat down on an overstuffed sofa opposite.

“Well,” Professor McGonagall began crisply. “I am sure you must be aware of the events occurring in the wizarding world. We are currently in a state of open warfare.”

“I don’t see how that concerns us,” Vernon said nastily. Professor McGonagall’s mouth thinned.

“It concerns you, Mr Dursley, because your government could be taken over by You-Know-Who in a second. You-Know-Who and his followers despise muggles and take great enjoyment from ’muggle-hunting’, as they call it. If he were to come to power, the whole world would be in the gravest danger.” She paused, looking as though she rather enjoyed the horrified expression on Vernon’s face. “I trust you are aware of the circumstances surrounding your nephew?”

Vernon looked at Harry though narrowed eyes. “He wants to kill him, doesn’t he? That Lord Voldi-thing. That’s whom you meant when you said ‘You-Know-Who?”

“It is.” She paused. “Do you mean to say that you know nothing about what is going on…what Harry’s role is?” Vernon shrugged a shoulder and looked uninterested, but Harry noticed that Petunia was leaning forward in her seat, almost eagerly. “Well, you must be aware that You-Know-Who is the man who killed Lily and James Potter, and tried to kill Harry when he was a baby.” Vernon nodded, his eyes flicking to Harry’s scar. “When You-Know-Who failed to kill Harry and disappeared, Harry became famous and known as the Boy-Who-Lived. However, You-Know-Who has returned and is set on taking over. This concerns Harry because You-Know-Who’s biggest goal is to kill him, and he has attempted to on numerous occasions. But Harry has always managed to escape.”

Vernon shot Harry an annoyed look. “Why’s this You-Know-Who still set on killing him?” he said, looking mildly interested. “He sent dementoid things after him and my Dudders the other year.”

“That was not You-Know-Who’s doing. That was the work of someone else…some almost as equally foul,” McGonagall sniffed, and Harry grinned at her mention of Umbridge. “You-Know-Who is so set on killing Harry because of a prophecy made shortly before Harry’s birth.” She looked at Harry. “Do you mind, Potter?” Harry shook his head. “The prophecy states that Harry is the only person who has the power to kill You-Know-Who, and _‘either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives’.”_

There was a short silence following this, and then McGonagall spoke again, her tone very cold.

“Harry has suffered greatly over the years. He has witnessed several murders, including those of his godfather and a fellow student, and he has been tortured on many occasions by You-Know-Who himself, and his followers. Whilst Harry stays here, he will be treated well. If I hear of one occasion where Harry had been mistreated, you will have far, far more than just me to answer to.” Sweeping both the Dursleys a disdainful look, she stood up. Harry copied her. “Potter, there will Aurors monitoring you here constantly, so you will be perfectly safe. Do remember to keep in touch,” she said, with a nod to Hedwig. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I will Professor. And…” He lowered his voice slightly. “Try and get me out of here as soon as possible.” She smiled briskly and swept from the room. Harry picked up his trunk and Hedwig’s cage and left the room, shooting a quick glance at the Dursleys as he left. Vernon looked furious at being threatened again -his face red and the vein standing out on his forehead - but Petunia was oddly flushed, her breathing shallow and her hands shaking slightly. Ignoring them, Harry went upstairs, dumped his trunk unceremoniously on his bed, and sat down next to it, his head in his hands. He _really_ didn’t want to be here. 


	24. The Man in the Mirror

  
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24

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__

The smell of death was everywhere. A heavy, sickly sweet smell that made Harry want to vomit. He tried to turn back, to run, but his body wouldn’t obey his mind. His feet took slow, methodical steps forward…closer…closer…the flickering black veil seemed to draw him in. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest. The veil was whispering to him…beckoning…

__

“Harry?”

__

Harry narrowed his eyes. Who was speaking his name?

__

“Harry?” A figure walked around the archway, where it had been hidden behind the veil. It was a man. He had long dark hair and wasted, once-handsome face. “Harry?”

__

“Sirius?” Harry whispered. He took a step towards the older man. “Is that you?”

__

“Of course it’s me, Harry.” The man looked at him sadly and shook his head. “Why, Harry? Why did you let this happen to me? I only went there because I cared for you. I wanted to help you. And look what you did to me. You failed me, Harry. How could you?”

__

“No…Sirius…I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.

__

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Harry,” said another voice. A young, handsome man had appeared next to Sirius. “Sorry doesn’t give me back my life. Sorry doesn’t stop my father’s tears. Sorry doesn’t heal my mother’s heart.”

__

“Cedric…I’m so sorry…” Harry whispered helplessly.

__

“I was eighteen, Harry. I wasn’t old enough to die. I hadn’t even lived.”

__

“I’m sorry…” Harry repeated. What else was there for him to say?

__

“Look what you’ve done, Harry.” A soft voice spoke, and a woman appeared next to the two men. She was young, with dark red hair and large green eyes.

__

“Mum…” Harry gasped. Lily looked at him sadly.

__

“All we ever wanted was to be proud of you. But how can we be, Harry? Look what you’ve done. We died for you, and you‘ve failed us.” Tears sprang into her eyes and she put her hands over her face.

__

“You’ve got blood on your hands, son.” James appeared next to his wife. “Too many are dead because of you. Innocent lives…gone.”

__

“Dad…I…”

__

“You’ve got blood on your hands, Harry,” James repeated. “Look at them.” He nodded at Harry’s hands. Harry lifted them slowly and looked. He gasped; blood was shining thickly on them, glistening red in the moonlight.

__

“No…” Harry tried to wipe them on his trousers but it would not go. “Dad, please!”

__

“Look what you’ve done to us, Harry. Look what you’ve done,” Sirius said sadly.

__

“Please…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry! Please…wait! Stay! Let me explain! Please!” The figures began to fade, the veil flickering behind them. “Please!”

__

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing, boy?” 

Harry jolted into consciousness. He was sat bolt upright in bed, staring straight ahead and trembling violently. Vernon Dursley grabbed Harry’s T-shirt and pulled him up.

“What do you think you’re doing, waking us up in the middle of the night? I’ve got to work tomorrow!”

Harry was still shaking, his face flushed and sweaty. “I’m…sorry,” he gasped. “I had a bad dream.”

“You’re always having bad dreams! There’s something wrong with you!” he growled. “You’re not right…in the head!”

“Vernon…Vernon, go back to bed dear. I’ll deal with him.” Petunia Dursley raised a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. “Come on.” Vernon strode out of the door, muttering darkly to himself. Petunia turned her eyes to Harry. The boy was sat on his bed, his eyes staring blankly straight ahead. His face was clammy, and there were tear tracks streaked down his face, although his eyes were dry. Petunia thought he looked ill. For all his newly gained bulk, his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes…his eyes scared her. They looked as though they belonged to someone far older than a sixteen-year-old boy. They had a wild, haunted look in them…as though they had seen too much pain, too much torment. Petunia found that she could hardly look at them.

“Harry?” she said softly. He looked up quickly, as though he had forgotten she was there. “Harry, what’s wrong?” 

He looked at her unseeingly. “Nothing,” he said finally, looking at the floor.

“I heard you shouting…pleading…” Petunia said quietly. She noticed that the boy didn’t seem to be able to keep still; if he wasn’t twisting his fingers or twitching his leg then his eyes were persistently darting around the room, as though he expected someone to be lurking in the corners. “Harry?”

“Just a dream,” he said quietly. “It was just a dream.”

“Was it about him? Lord…Voldemort?”

“Not directly, no.”

 

“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” she asked hesitantly.

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” he said bitterly, the abrupt change in his tone startling her. They stared at each other for a few moments.

“Harry …I know we haven‘t exactly…treated you that…well…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

He hung his head and looked at his knees. “Nothing matters anymore,” he said, very softly. 

“I’m sorry,” Petunia whispered, her face twisted in pain. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“For what?” he said dully.

“For doing this to you. For failing you. For failing my sister. For failing Lily.” 

It was one of the first times Harry had ever heard his aunt say his mother’s name, and it was that, more than anything, that made him look up again. All those years he cried himself to sleep as a child…all those times he had ached for someone to love him…all those times he had longed for someone to hug away the pain…none of that mattered now. He had suffered, yes, but so had others, and because of him. He didn’t deserve an apology. He didn’t even deserve to hear his mother’s name. He’d failed her. He’d failed them all. He looked at Petunia, and gave a small smile, although it was more of a grimace.

“It doesn’t matter, Petunia. I’ve done my fair share of failing too.” His jaw clenched and Petunia tore her eyes away from his face; she couldn’t stand to look at those eyes anymore…she couldn’t bear the air of utter desolation and grief that he seemed to give off…that seemed to radiate from him. When Harry looked back up a moment later she was gone, and he stared at the place where she had stood for a long time, his eyes burning.

* * * 

__

Dear Ginny,

Thanks for your letter, and thank your mum for the cakes too. They were really nice. I don’t know when it’s best for you to come and visit - it’s probably not a good idea; my uncle would flip. It would be better if I could come to you. Do you know how long I have to stay here? It won’t be for the whole holiday, will it? I don’t think I can bear it much longer. My uncle and cousin are being okay. They usually just ignore me, which is what I want. My aunt has been nicer to me. She actually apologised last week for how they’ve treated me over the years. I don’t know why, though.

Anyway, please talk to everyone and find out when I can leave.

Yours,

Harry.

 

Dear Remus,

Thanks for your letter. Yes, I am fine and yes, I am eating. The muggles are behaving, and my aunt is actually being quite nice to me. Listen, can you speak to Dumbledore and ask him when I can come to The Burrow? I can’t take this place much longer.   


Harry

 

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

You didn’t reply to my last owl a few days ago, so I’ll ask again. When can I leave? I know you want me to stay here but I can’t possibly stay the whole holiday. I’ll go mad. In the summer, you’ve let me go to The Burrow after I’ve spent a few weeks at the Dursleys, so can I go soon? I’ll be safe there, they’ve put up loads of new wards. Please let me know as soon as possible.

Harry

 

* * *

 

Professor Dumbledore,

This is the third time I have written to you. I’m not going to stop asking you if you don’t answer, if that’s what you think. Anyway…when can I leave the Dursleys?

Please have the decency to reply this time.

Harry Potter

* * *

 

Professor Dumbledore,

Obviously you’re having difficulty understanding the very complex question I asked you in my previous three letters. So I’ll spell it out for you. 

WHEN - CAN - I - LEAVE - THE - DURSLEYS? 

I hope you understood it this time. I know that you can be a bit shit at understanding people, but I think even you must get the gist of this letter.

Harry Potter (If you don’t remember who I am, I’m also known as the Chosen One. Black hair, green eyes, scar on forehead…remember? 

“Here, girl. Take this to Dumbledore,” said Harry, folding the letter up and tying it to Hedwig’s leg. “Peck him for me, really hard. And make sure he replies.” Hedwig hooted understandingly and took off out the window. Harry watched her until she was a tiny speck in the sky, and then sighed heavily. If Dumbledore didn’t reply…he was not going to take it well. How could he just dump Harry back here when he knew what it was like, he knew what it did to him, and still not even have the decency to reply to his letter? Harry kicked his trunk angrily and marched out of his room. It was a sunny day and he decided to go and sit in the garden. He’d read somewhere that the sun put people in a better mood. He trudged into the garden and sat down heavily onto the grass. It was the first time he’d been outside since he’d arrived almost two week ago, and the bright sunshine stung his eyes.

“Hey, Potter!”

Harry turned slowly around and groaned inwardly. Dudley and two of his friends, Piers and Dennis, were ambling into the garden. Dudley looked decidedly uncomfortable, but big grins were spreading over Piers and Dennis’s faces.

“Alright Potter?” sneered Piers, walking over to him. Harry ignored him, turning his head and looking at a tabby cat that was sat on the wall. “Why are you back from St Brutus’s? I thought you stayed there over Easter.”

“Change of plan,” Harry said simply.

“Still having nightmares, Potter?” Piers sneered. Harry looked at him sharply.

“What?” he said coldly.

“Big D told me last summer that you shout in your sleep,” he said with glee. Harry looked at Dudley who gave shrugged miserably.

“C’mon Piers, let’s go and play that new computer game,” he suggested, taking a step towards the house.

“In a minute, Big D. I haven’t finished with Potter yet.” 

Harry stared blankly ahead, trying to focus on the cat, which seemed to be watching what was happening with apprehension. Harry smiled slightly; he was missing the wizarding world too much.

“Big D told me that you were moaning for your boyfriend!” Piers cackled, and Dennis guffawed loudly. “Why so glum, Potter? Has he broken up with you?”

Harry felt his hand twitch towards his wand. The cat seemed to be giving him some sort of warning look now, and he shook his head. He was going mad.

“Oooh….Sirius…oh, Sirius, take me back! I love you!”

Harry stood up quickly. “Shut up,” he said quietly, his fists clenched. “Shut - up.”

“You must get around, Potter,” smirked Piers. “Big D told me that the year before you were crying over someone called Cedric!”

“Anything that comes out of Big D’s fat mouth is a load of bullshit!” Harry hissed angrily, his eyes flashing. Dudley recognised the warning signs and tried to distract Piers again.

“Come ON, Piers…let’s get some beers.”

Piers ignored him, wrapping his arms around himself and making loud kissing sounds.

“Oh Cedric…hold me, kiss me…take me back, Cedric…I’m sorry!”

A kind of blankness had swept over Harry, and without thinking that there were three of them, without even thinking about his wand, Harry drew back his fist and slammed it as hard as he could into Piers’s face. He felt something crack under his knuckles, and heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone. Piers howled wildly and clamped his hands over his nose, which was now pouring with blood, splattering down his white shirt and onto the newly cut grass. He turned and ran back into the house. Dennis made to move towards Harry, but Dudley grabbed his arm.

“No, Dennis, leave it. Dad will sort him out,” he said quickly, and dragged his friend into the house. Harry stayed where he was, massaging his hand and breathing heavily. He looked again at the tabby cat, which now seemed to be looking at him in a disapproving manner. Harry looked closer, noticing the distinct markings around its eyes, and he snorted.

“BOY!” Vernon Dursley strode out of the house, his face red and furious. “You’re going to be sorry! You broke his nose! I’m going to make you regret the day you were born!”

Harry stayed where he was, waiting. He was so angry he wanted to punch something over and over again…his uncle preferably. His uncle had never really hit him before; he had managed to restrict himself to shoving and pushing, with the occasional cuff around the ear. Harry found himself hoping that this would be the day Vernon decided to hit him; Harry longed to retaliate. He fingered his wand lovingly in his pocket.

“You come in NOW, boy, and apologise!”

“No,” said Harry simply, almost calmly.

“YOU DO IT RIGHT NOW OR I’LL - ”

“You’ll what, Vernon?” Harry asked, taking his wand out and examining it casually. With surprising speed, Vernon reached out a large purple hand and snatched the wand from Harry’s grasp, and evil smile on his face. 

“Ha! Now you cant do magic, boy! Now you’re completely defenceless!”

Harry looked at him leisurely. “Not quite,” he said coolly, reaching out a hand and silently summoning the wand back. Vernon stared, his face turning even redder.

He took a sharp step towards Harry but Harry held out his wand.

“You stay away from me,” he hissed, his anger causing red sparks to shoot out from the tip. Vernon eyed it warily.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, boy!” he growled, turning on his heel and marching back inside the house. A sudden pain shot through Harry’s scar and he gasped, clamping a hand to his forehead. After a moment it subsided, but the pain made Harry feel angrier than ever. He turned and walked a bit closer to the cat, who was sill looking at him intently.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” he said coldly. “Come to check up on me, have you? Well, as you can see, everything’s great. Make sure you tell everyone I’m having a blast.” He turned sharply and began walking back to the house, but then paused and turned back. “Oh yeah, and you can tell Dumbledore to PISS OFF!”

He strode into the house and up to his room, hearing from behind him the faint crack of disapparation. He was shaking with anger. He slammed his door and kicked the wall, swearing loudly. He noticed his knuckles had some blood on them, and went into the bathroom to wash it off. He leant over the sink, watching the water whirl down the plug hole, taking with it the faint stain of pink. A horrible feeling came over him as he remembered his dream from the previous week. He remembered his father’s face as he told Harry that he had blood on his hands. Did it mean something, now that he actually _did_ have blood on his hands? He shook his head angrily, trying to dislodge the thought. He was feeling strangely tired…weak…

__

Hello, Harry. It is good to be talking with you again; I have missed our little chats. Haven’t you?

__

“No,” Harry said aloud, trying to push the cold voice from his head.

__

Did you enjoy doing it? Hitting that muggle boy? I know you did…I could feel it. You enjoyed it, just as you enjoyed torturing Bellatrix…just as you enjoyed hearing Goyle scream…just as you enjoyed killing that fly. 

__

“I didn’t,” Harry spat. “I’m not like you!”

__

Oh, but you are, Harry. You are far more like me than you realise. And you know that soon, killing just a fly wont be enough, will it Harry? You want more, don’t you? I can feel it inside you.

__

“I don’t.”

__

Don’t try to hide it from me, Harry. Lord Voldemort sees everything. Did you know that Dumbledore is scared of you? Oh, he is. He is scared of what you might become; scared that you are too much like me.

__

“I’m nothing like you!”

__

Then why is Dumbledore so worried, Harry? You know he is. You know he’s hiding something from you, don’t you? He’s keeping secrets, because he’s afraid of you…

__

“GET - OUT - OF - MY - HEAD!” Harry spat. With tremendous effort he raised his wall and pushed him out, slumping over the sink, trembling. Did that really just happen? Pushing himself up on shaking arms, he raised his head and looked into the mirror. He gave a loud yell and jumped back, banging against the bathroom door.

“What the hell are you doing in there, boy!” he heard Vernon shout from downstairs. Harry ignored him, taking a step towards the mirror and looking in it. His face looked back at him, pale and shaken, his dark hair falling over one eye. Swallowing painfully, Harry edged his way out. He really was going mad; he thought he’d seen someone else in the mirror. He could have sworn that for a second his reflection was not his…he could have sworn that for a second the face looking back at him was deathly white, with slits for nostrils and red, snake-like eyes.

 

 

 

PLEASE REVIEW GUYS!! :D

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Meetings Interrupted

  
HELLO! SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATES...I'VE BEEN BUSY WITH REVISING AND EXAMS, BUT THEY'RE OVER NOW, SO I SHOULD BE UPDATING REGULARLY AGAIN. FOR SOME REASON, THIS CHAPTER WAS REALLY HARD TO WRITE...MAYBE BECAUSE IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I'D WRITTEN FOR A WHILE, BUT IT WAS A LOT HARDER THAN THE OTHERS! YOU MAY NOTICE THAT IT'S A BIT JUMPY...ANYWAY, HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

 

25

  
Harry had been at the Dursley’s for two and a half weeks and was thoroughly sick of it. Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Remus had written regularly, but Harry’s letters were getting shorter and shorter. He lay on his bed in angry silence, seething. Did Dumbledore not care at all? Harry had wanted to tell him about what had happened the other day in the bathroom, but Dumbledore was apparently ignoring the fact that he existed. Well, that was fine. Two could play at that game. Dumbledore probably only took an interest in Harry at all because of the prophecy, because he wanted to make sure that Harry killed Voldemort. What did he care that Harry was miserable and lonely? Harry groaned in frustration. His head was pounding; his scar had been giving painful twinges all day. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. It did not do to be angry. He tried to focus on things that made him smile, but found there wasn’t much that did these days. He shook his head crossly. Ginny…he’d think of her. A faint smile twitched across his mouth as he remembered the feel of her arms around him, the light, flowery smell of her hair, the soft touch of her lips….

You like the blood traitor girl, don’t you, Harry?

Harry gasped and screwed up his eyes, trying to push the voice away…it was getting harder each time. Sweat broke out on his brow and his breath came in short bursts.

You cannot push me away, Harry Potter. We are too close now. I am part of you. You can feel it, can’t you? All that anger inside you, begging to be released…

“The only anger I feel is my own!” Harry said angrily, his face turning pale as his efforts increased. Get out of my head!

You like her very much, don’t you Harry? Ginny Weasley…the blood-traitor girl. I think you are growing to love her. How…touching.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry yelled. He had to get him out…now.

Of course, I am acquainted with the girl, remember Harry? We became friends. She told me everything. “Oh Tom, I don’t think Harry will ever notice me!”. But you did, didn’t you Harry?

Harry said nothing, his whole body rigid, tensed with the effort of pushing Voldemort out.

You cannot stop me, Harry Potter. When will you learn this? You cannot protect your friends. They will all die, Harry. All of them. I will pick them off, one by one, and you shall watch as I kill them. The blood-traitors will be first…perhaps the girl shall be the very first…

“Get out!” Harry yelled, and to his intense relief he felt Voldemort’s presence slip away from his mind. He collapsed back against the bed, his breath coming loudly and quickly. What was happening? Why was Voldemort suddenly able to do this? All the Occlumency studying had seemed to have worked…so why was this suddenly happening now? Harry passed his hand over his eyes, trying not to think about what he had just heard. He knew Voldemort was taunting him; he had done it before. And yet…some things seemed to ring true. Harry had been slightly worried about his outbursts of anger, which seemed to be occurring more and more regularly. He had always had a temper, he knew that, and it was understandable that in recent times it would have got worse…but…there were some things Voldemort had said that made Harry wonder just how in control he really was. The strange blankness that had come over Harry before he had punched Piers…was that significant? The fact that he did enjoy hitting him…he had enjoyed hearing Goyle scream…did that mean he was like Voldemort? He groaned loudly and rubbed his eyes.

“Hello, Harry.”

Harry jumped up, instinctively drawing his wand. To his intense surprise, he saw Dumbledore standing in the corner of his room, smiling calmly at him.

“Professor Dumbledore!” he exclaimed, lowering his wand. “How did you…” Harry stopped, suddenly remembering he was angry with the Headmaster, and frowned. “What are you doing here?” he said coldly. Dumbledore ignored his tone and continued smiling calmly.

“I have come to escort you to The Burrow, Harry. There is an Order meeting taking place tonight, and you will be spending the remainder of the holidays there.”

Harry stared at him, his joy at being able to leave Privet Drive fighting against the anger and hurt he felt at Dumbledore’s failure to write to him. “You didn’t reply to my letters,” he said accusingly, looking away. Dumbledore nodded.

“I know, Harry, and I’m sorry. However, there was no way I could have answered them. Sending owls would have given away my location, and it was important for that to remain a secret.”

“Why?” Harry asked abruptly. “What were you doing?”

“I was trying to gain information about the last two Horcruxes, Harry.”

“And did you find anything out?”

Dumbledore sighed. “Nothing that I didn’t already know.”

“Well, that was a bit of a waste of time then, wasn’t it sir?” Harry said roughly. Dumbledore looked at him for a while.

“Harry, I understand that you were angry that I didn’t answer your owls, but wallowing in self-pity and attacking those who are trying to help you solves nothing.”

“It makes me feel better,” Harry retorted, sitting back down on his bed.

“I daresay it does. But Harry…you should know by now that I would never deliberately ignore you unless I had good reason to. Rudeness and anger are not the best ways to repay loyalty and love. Incidentally, I always made sure you were watched in case things got too much for you. Professor McGonagall was able to pass on the, er…message you gave me.” The expression on his face was unreadable, but Harry still felt himself go red.

“Yeah, well…” he said, feeling rather ashamed. “I’m sorry…it’s just…” Dumbledore raised a hand.

“I do not require an explanation, Harry. I know why you were angry. But nevertheless, apologies go a long way, so thank you. Consider it forgotten.” Harry felt thoroughly ashamed now. He knew he had taken the brunt of his anger out on Dumbledore for almost the last year, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Sir,” he began tentatively, “I don’t want you to think that I’m not…grateful…for everything you’ve done for me. I know…I know I get angry and…I don’t want to…but sometimes it’s like…it’s like it’s not me…it’s like it can’t control it…” He paused, unsure of what he was trying to say.

“I quite understand, Harry,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. He looked at Harry a little more intently. “Apart from the regrettable incident with your cousin’s friend, is there anything else that I should know about?” 

Harry thought for a moment. He thought about what he had seen in the mirror, his uncontrollable anger, the way Voldemort had managed to invade his mind once again and the things he had said. He swallowed. “No, sir,” he said calmly. Dumbledore looked at him as though he wasn’t convinced, but then gave another smile.

“In that case, Harry, I think it’s time for you to pack up your trunk; the Weasleys are waiting.”  

* * *

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry said with a smile after Mrs Weasley had let go of him. He gave her a quick kiss, conscious that Dumbledore and Mrs Weasley were watching. She smiled gently at him, relieved he looked okay.

“Want to go upstairs? Ron’s up there with Hermione; she’s come over for the day.”

“Sure,” Harry nodded. They walked up the stairs to Ron’s bedroom, recognisable from the large Chudley Canons poster on the door. The door was slightly ajar, so Harry pushed it open and walked in, Ginny right behind him. He stopped suddenly, and Ginny bumped into him, looking past him to see what had made him stop so suddenly. A smirk crossed her face - a sharp contrast to the look of utter disbelief on Harry’s face as he stared at Ron’s bed. Hermione was sitting on Ron’s lap, their arms tightly entwined around each other, kissing furiously. Harry’s mouth was slightly open; he felt rather sick. Ginny coughed loudly, and Ron and Hermione sprang apart. Hermione turned bright red and avoided Harry and Ginny’s eyes, and although Ron had blushed too, he looked distinctly pleased with himself.

“Er…I just got here,” Harry said quickly, his voice considerably higher than usual.

“Right,” said Ron, his ears very red. “Cool.”

“Er…I’ll just go and…” Harry tried to think of something he could be doing. “I’ll just go and put my stuff away.”

“You’re staying in Ron’s room, Harry,” Ginny pointed out with a grin. “Your stuff is already here.”

“Er…oh, yeah…well…”

“I said I’ll help Mrs Weasley with dinner,” said Hermione suddenly, standing up. “I should go downstairs.” She hurried past Harry and avoided his eyes, her face still very red. Ginny grinned and followed her down the stairs. An awkward silence followed.

“Well,” Harry said finally, staring at Ron’s left shoulder. “Had a good holiday?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, looking at Harry’s elbow. “Not too bad. You?”

“Okay. So…how long has Hermione been here then?” he said, his mouth twitching.

“Oh, only a few hours,” said Ron, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah? You two, er…get up to much?” Harry said, unable to stop the smirk forming on his lips. Ron met Harry’s eyes finally, a reluctant grin spreading over his face.

“Shut up, you.”

Harry sat down on the pull-out bed and looked at his friend. “How long’s this been going on then?”

Ron shrugged. “I dunno, really. I mean, we’ve kind of been edging around the fact that we liked each other for a while…”

“I noticed,” Harry said with a nod.

“But that was the first time anything actually…you know…happened.”

“That was your first kiss?” Harry said, slightly incredulous. “Well, you two are certainly making up for lost time!” 

Ron grinned. “You’re okay with it though, aren’t you?”

Harry frowned. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I dunno…you looked a bit shocked when you saw.”

“I was shocked!” Harry laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not pleased for you. I always thought this would happen, I just didn’t know when. Seriously, mate…I’m really pleased for you. But…er…maybe next time you should close your door when Hermione comes over. I really don’t want to have to walk in on that again.”

  
The rest of the afternoon was spent pleasantly enough, with the four playing games and just chatting. Harry hadn’t told anyone about Voldemort being able to break into his mind again and talk to him; he thought they would probably react badly, and he didn’t want anyone fussing over him at the moment. He would tell Dumbledore when he went back to school. He told them about what happened with Piers, and was reproached by Hermione and congratulated by Ron.

“Violence is never the answer, Ron,” Hermione said wearily.

“Yeah, but he deserved it! Didn’t he, Harry? They used to bully you loads, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they did, Hermione,” Harry said earnestly, amused by Ron’s reluctance to be in Hermione’s bad books. A soft tap at the door broke off the conversation, and Remus Lupin poked his head round.

“Hi you lot, sorry to interrupt but I thought Harry might want to know that the meeting’s about to start.”

“Oh yeah, thanks Remus,” said Harry, standing up. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Don’t forget to listen hard so you can tell us everything,” Ginny said lightly.

“Okay,” Harry said with a grin, and followed Remus down the stairs.

“So, Harry,” the older man asked as they sat down in the empty living room. “How have you been?”

“Fine, Remus,” Harry said, rather impatiently. “I’ve already told you that.”

Remus nodded. “Yes, you have, but we both know that your version of ‘fine’ is very different from ours.” Harry said nothing. “Harry,” Remus said hesitantly, “I know you’ve never been one for talking about your emotions and how you feel…James was the same. But sometimes…sometimes it can help to talk. I want to help you, but I can’t unless you let me in. I am not trying to take Sirius’s place, Harry, but I would be so happy if you would open up to me. If you would let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, Remus,” Harry said tiredly. “We both know that.”

“I’m not talking about the prophecy, Harry,” Remus said impatiently. “I know it has to be you who kills him - although don’t think for a second that you’re going to be standing against him on your own. No, I’m talking about the simple things; when you feel it’s getting too much, when you’re confused, when you’re frightened…I can try to help you. But you need to talk to me for that to happen, Harry.” He looked intently at Harry, and Harry opened his mouth slowly.

“There is…there is one thing,” he said tentatively, and Remus nodded in encouragement. “When I was at the Dursleys’, there was -” He broke off suddenly as Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley entered the room, closely followed by Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, Mr Weasley, and Mrs Weasley. Remus looked at Harry.

“Tell me after,” he muttered, and Harry nodded. The group waited a while whilst the room slowly filled up. Finally, Professor McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore walked in, all of them glancing at Harry as they sat down. Professor McGonagall looked friendly but rather disapproving (Harry thought she was remembering his behaviour in the garden), Dumbledore gave him a smile and Snape glared at him, his usual look of loathing twisting his face. Harry returned the look with venom.

“Good evening to you all,” Dumbledore said with a benign smile. “I trust you are well in both mind and spirit, and ready to engage in another interesting and insightful Order meeting. We are to begin with a report from Charlie Weasley. Charlie, if you will?” Charlie stood up and began to talk about how Voldemort was attempting to recruit many Romanian wizards whom he worked with, presumably because he thought their expertise with dragons would come in useful.

“Does that mean he’s going to be using dragons, then?” Fred asked disbelievingly.

“It is indeed a possibility, yes, Mr Weasley,” said Dumbledore gravely, bowing his head. The Order continued to discuss Voldemort’s possible tactics for a while, and Harry found himself feeling strangely drowsy. He swayed slightly in his chair before managing to sit up straight, shaking his head to try to wake himself up. As he looked back up he noticed that Snape was staring at him, and odd look on his face. Harry glared at him, hating him, and to his surprise, Snape looked away immediately. Harry felt an incredibly strong desire to draw his wand and curse Snape into oblivion, and his hand actually twitched towards his wand before he came to his senses. He tried to focus on the meeting, but his scar was starting to tingle and his mind was going strangely blank again. It was the same blankness that had swept over him before he had punched Piers…Harry remembered thinking that was odd. That was the last thought he had before his scar erupted in pain and he fell to the floor, yelling and clutching his forehead.

You see, Harry? You see what I can do? Whenever I want you, you come to me. You are mine.

The rest of the Order jumped from their seats, Remus and Mrs Weasley running towards Harry. Dumbledore held out a hand.

“Wait! Harry needs space. He will not be able to stop until this is over. We must stand back and give him space.” The Order stood, rooted to the spot, as they watched the scene in front if them. Harry seemed to be having some kind of fit; his body was jerking spasmodically and his face was twisted in pain. Most of the Order members had never even heard that Harry had dreams or visions, let alone seen them while they occurred. They stood still, horrified, their hands over their mouths. Mrs Weasley was being forcibly restrained by her husband as she stretched towards Harry, tears sparkling in her eyes.  
   
Dumbledore is scared of you, Harry. You see it now, don’t you? He doesn’t want to go to you…he asked everyone to stand back, to move away from you. Poor, poor Dumbledore. 

Harry groaned in pain, trying to shake Voldemort from his mind, but he was in so much agony he could hardly breathe. His scar felt like it was on fire. Remus made a step towards him, but Dumbledore held him back.

“No, Remus! We must wait!”

Shall we show Dumbledore why he is right to be scared of you? Shall we?

Against his will, Harry felt himself sit up. He drew his wand from his pocket in a daze, his arm feeling strangely heavy. He stood up slowly, and at once Mrs Weasley made a move towards him.

“Oh, Harry dear, are you…” Her voice trailed off as Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. She clapped a hand to her mouth in horror, and staggered back.

“Molly, what did you see?” Dumbledore said sharply, glancing at Harry’s strangely blank eyes.

“He…his eyes…” Mrs Weasley stammered. “I thought…for a second…they looked…they looked red!”

“Don’t be silly, Mum, they’re green…look!” Fred said, indicating Harry’s eyes, which were indeed green again. Mrs Weasley began to say something but stopped as Harry took a step forward, a step closer to Dumbledore. In a high, cold voice - a voice that was not his own - he began to speak.

“You see, Dumbledore?” he hissed, a horrible grin spreading over his face. “You see what I can do? And you know why, don’t you?”

The Order stared in shock and horror as Harry continued to smile, raising his wand slowly. Dumbledore did not move.

“You are a fool, Dumbledore. You always have been,” Harry hissed again. “You never saw what I could do until it was too late. Look how foolish you have been with Potter; look where you are now. You are scared of him like you are scared of me.”

“I have never been scared of you, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Please leave Harry now. I would not want to force you out.”

Harry threw back his head and laughed coldly; it was a laugh that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and many members of the Order actually shivered. “You cannot force me out, Dumbledore! Can you not see that Potter sees himself in me? We are two of a kind. We are too similar for you to split.”

“I cannot deny that I see many similarities between you and Harry,” Dumbledore continued calmly, and many of the Order members looked shocked by this. “Yet however similar you two may be, you will never be the same. Harry has chosen the right path.”

“Potter will join me in a second!” Harry sneered angrily. “Already he feels himself changing, he feels me inside him! I can kill you, through him…that‘s how close we are!” Harry raised his wand until it pointed at Dumbledore’s heart, but still Dumbledore did not move.

“Headmaster!” Snape hissed angrily. “Disarm him! He is not safe!”

Dumbledore ignored him, taking a step towards Harry. He was looking intently at Harry’s face, noticing the struggle that seemed to be taking place behind his features.  
“Harry,” he said softly. “Harry, come back to us now.”

Harry said nothing, but neither did Voldemort. The hand that held his wand was shaking violently.

“Come on, Harry. You can do this. Drop your wand. Drop it, Harry. Don’t let him win.” Harry’s hand shook more violently, and his fingers seemed to loosen slightly. Dumbledore nodded. “That’s right, Harry. Come on.”

Harry’s whole body began to shake with the effort of dropping his wand. He shook his head angrily. “Leave me alone!” he said fiercely, and the Order seemed to know whom he was talking to.

“You tell him, Harry!” said Fred. “You tell him where to go!”

Harry’s hand shook once more, and then his wand dropped with a clatter onto the floor. His knees gave way and he would have fallen to the ground if Remus hadn’t darted in and grabbed him just in time. He lowered Harry into a seat, and conjured up a glass of water. Harry gulped it down thirstily, trembling. The Order members were still standing in horror and astonishment, and Dumbledore motioned for them to sit. He drew his own chair in front of Harry’s and sat down.

“Harry,” he said gently, when Harry had stopped drinking. “What happened?”

Harry took a few deep breaths before answering. “Sir…I didn’t mean…I couldn’t help it…!”

“I know, Harry. There is no need to try and explain.” 

“Albus, what…what just happened there?” asked Mrs Weasley shakily, her face very pale.

“I think Harry is the only one who can answer that,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry. Harry swallowed.

“I was…well, it all happened so quickly. I mean, I started to feel kind of…tired. Like I was about to fall asleep. But I didn’t, and then I heard him, inside my head. But this time…it was different. I could feel him…inside me.” He frowned and rubbed his scar.

“What do you mean, ‘this time it was different?’” Snape said slowly. Harry blinked.

“I dunno…different from my other visions,” he said quickly, looking at the floor. Snape stared at him.

“Has this happened before, Potter?” he asked quietly. Harry frowned again.

“You know it has.”

“Potter, I don’t mean the visions. I mean the Dark Lord being able to use you like that. Possess you.”

There was a long silence as Harry thought what to say. 

“Voldemort attempted to possess Harry that night in the Ministry,” Dumbledore said softly. “However, he could only stay in Harry’s body for a short while. I don’t know how he managed it this time. Did he speak to you, Harry?”

“Er…yeah,” Harry said awkwardly, wishing everyone would stop staring at him.

“What did he say?” Dumbledore pressed. Mrs Weasley obviously saw the look of discomfort on Harry’s face and stepped in.

“Albus, can’t we give Harry some time? He was just…possessed! By You-Know-Who! Surely he should rest for a while? Look at him!”

“Molly, you know I would let Harry rest if I could. However, it is imperative that we understand what just happened there. Harry may be in great danger.”

“And so might the rest of us,” Snape sneered.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Severus?” Remus said, rather sharply.

“Well, you saw what Potter just did. You saw how easily he could have cursed the Headmaster. I think it is the rest of us who are in the greatest danger, not Potter.”

“I would never have cursed Dumbledore!” Harry said angrily, sitting up straighter. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Really, Potter? So why exactly did you point your wand at him?”

“That doesn’t mean I would have cursed him! There’s a big difference between raising your wand, and actually cursing someone!”  Snape opened his mouth to retort but Dumbledore spoke again.

“This is not what is important. I do believe, Severus, that Harry would not have cursed me. He is able to resist the Imperious Curse, and that would help him resist what Voldemort wants him to do. Harry, I must ask you…has anything like this happened before?”

Harry thought. No, nothing like this had ever happened. But what about the incidents over Easter? Harry knew they were significant. He opened his mouth, about to tell Dumbledore what had happened, when he stopped. Every Order member was staring at him, a look of curiosity and horror on their faces. Harry knew he couldn’t tell Dumbledore about what had happened when they were all listening intently, their morbid curiosity desperate for the full story. “No, sir,” he said quietly, looking at the floor. Dumbledore said nothing, and Harry looked up slowly. Dumbledore looked deep in thought, his eyes grave behind his glasses. Harry’s eyes moved to Snape, who was staring at him intently, his dark eyes drilling into Harry’s green ones. With a sudden jolt, Harry felt Snape’s presence is his mind. Too startled to immediately try to push him out, his memories and thoughts whirled around wildly.

“You are far more like me than you realise. And you know that soon, killing just a fly won’t be enough, will it Harry? You want more, don’t you? I can feel it inside you”…

…A pale, snake-like face in the mirror, its red eyes reflecting both malevolence and amusement…

…they will all die, Harry. All of them. I will pick them off, one by one, and you will watch as I kill them. The blood-traitors will be first…perhaps the girl shall be the very first…

“NO!” Harry yelled, pushing Snape out of his mind. He prayed Snape hadn’t seen all of that. “You can’t just break into my mind like that!”

Snape’s eyes glittered strangely. “Have you been conversing with the Dark Lord, Potter?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, including Dumbledore’s.

“Don’t lie to me, Potter,” Snape said smoothly. “I saw. I heard. You saw his face in the mirror instead of yours, didn’t you? He’s been talking to you all Easter.” The room was silent, and Harry felt himself turn red.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked gently, his expression sad.

“He’s been conversing with You-Know-Who?” Charlie said slowly. “All Easter? And he never said?”

Harry realised quickly what Charlie was thinking. “Charlie, it’s not like that! We haven’t been ‘conversing’! He just…sometimes…comes into my head,” he said lamely, feeling Remus’s grip on his shoulder tighten.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked, her expression horrified. 

“I was going to!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “I was just about to tell Remus, before the meeting started!” Remus nodded slowly to confirm it. “And I was going to tell Dumbledore, but it’s not something I particularly want to share with the whole Order! It’s bad enough as it is without people thinking I’ve gone over to his side!” he said, with an accusing look at Charlie.

“Nobody thinks that, Harry,” Remus said quietly.

“Perhaps we should consider the meeting dismissed,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Harry, if you would remain here…and Severus…and yes, Remus, you can stay too,” he said pleasantly, as Lupin opened his mouth. The four waited in silence whilst the rest of the Order filed out. Once the door had shut all three turned to look at Harry.

“Harry, I must ask you to tell us everything that has happened, however insignificant it may seem. We need to know why this is happening.” Harry nodded slowly.

“Well…Voldemort’s been able to break into my mind again. I don’t know why, but whenever I try to push him out it’s so much harder than how it was before. It takes a while, and he…I dunno, he talks to me.”

“What does he say, Harry?” Remus asked quickly.

“Well, he…he says that we’re the same…he says that I’m just like him.” He paused, and looked at Dumbledore. “And he says that you know it, and you’re scared.” Dumbledore said nothing but merely nodded, implying that Harry should continue. “And he says…he says that he’s going to kill everyone. That he’s going to make me…watch…while he does it.”

“You do know he’s only saying this to get to you, don’t you Harry?” Remus asked, his face creased in concern. Harry nodded.

“Harry, Professor Snape said something about a mirror? What happened there?” Dumbledore asked slowly. Harry glared at Snape, who sneered back at him.

“Well…it was after I, er…hit my cousin’s friend,” Harry said quickly, looking at the floor. “I went into the bathroom and Voldemort came into my head. He said…he said that what I had done proved that I was like him, because he said I’d enjoyed doing it. Then I managed to get him out, and when I looked up, into the mirror…” He paused, unsure what to say next.

“You saw his reflection instead of yours,” Dumbledore finished for him, and Harry nodded, feeling awful.

“Have you been feeling intense anger towards people, Harry?” Remus said slowly. “People you wouldn’t usually feel it for?”

Harry thought. “I have been angry, but usually it’s not directed at people I like.” He looked at Dumbledore. “I know I’ve been angry with you, sir, but it’s different. I’m angry, but I don’t want to harm you, I don’t want to…” He trailed off awkwardly. 

Dumbledore nodded. “But when you got angry with your cousin’s friend, you wanted to harm him?” Harry inclined his head. “Harry, I must ask you…do you feel sometimes that you are not yourself? That you take pleasure in things you would not usually? Like causing pain, perhaps?”

Harry swallowed. “Well…yeah, sometimes. I mean, I told you how I felt when I used the Cruciatus curse against Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Indeed you did, Harry. And has anything similar happened?” 

“Well…when Goyle was screaming…even though I didn’t actively curse him…I did…enjoy…hearing him…scream.” He lowered his head even more, appalled by how his words sounded. Dumbledore understood his anxiety.

“Harry, this is not your fault. You are not a cruel man. You know these emotions you are feeling are not your own.”

“I know, sir…but why is it happening? Why is there suddenly this even bigger bond between us? Why am I feeling the emotions that he does?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I am not entirely sure why, Harry. I can only guess that the connection between you and Voldemort is growing as both of your powers grow.” Harry nodded, noticing that Snape gave Dumbledore a curious look as he spoke.

“So can we stop it happening, sir?”

“I don’t think we can, I’m afraid, Harry. The best you can do is keep us all informed if anything happens.”

“But sir, what if…what if it happens again? What if he makes me attack someone?”

“I do not think that will happen. As you rightly said, there is a difference between making someone raise their wand, and making someone curse someone. Voldemort will not be able to make you attack someone, I am sure of that.”

“Okay,” Harry said doubtfully, noticing that Snape was looking sceptical too.

“Well, Harry. I think you had better go and see Mrs Weasley; no doubt she wants to see that you are well. I will see you at school in a few days.”

Harry stood up. “Okay, sir.” He smiled briefly at Dumbledore and Remus, ignoring Snape. He shut the door quietly behind him and went upstairs, not wanting to be fussed over by Mrs Weasley just yet. He pushed open the door of Ron’s bedroom and went inside. The three were still in there, talking idly.

“Alright?” Ron asked casually, looking up. “Anything interesting happen in the meeting?”

Harry sat down slowly next to them. “You could say that,” he said with a nod. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PLEASE REVIEW!! :D THANKS A LOT!  



	26. The Calm Before The Storm

  
THIS IS A PRETTY SHORT CHAPTER...IT WAS ORIGINALLY GOING TO BE JOINT WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER, BUT I THINK IT WILL WORK BETTER ON ITS OWN. THE NEXT CHAPTER'S ALREADY IN PROGRESS! :) I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, AND IF YOU DO...REVIEW!! :D

  
26

  
Harry was very glad to be back at Hogwarts. With all his lessons, homework and training, he found that he did not have that much time to dwell on unpleasant thoughts, and he found it was quite easy to distract himself when Ginny was around. He had restarted his occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, and there had been no more attacks on his mind from Voldemort, although Harry was not about to get complacent. He was returning from his daily run one evening when he heard an angry whispering coming from along one of the adjacent corridors, punctuated by loud, ragged breathing. Harry slowed down his walk and tiptoed closer, trying not to breathe too loudly.

“…I cannot…I have tried…”

Harry frowned as he recognised the voice. Malfoy. He turned the corner quickly, and sure enough, Draco Malfoy was pressed against the wall, clutching his left arm in apparent pain, his face screwed up. Who was he talking to? Malfoy looked up sharply, as if he sensed someone was there. He drew his wand quickly, sneering when he saw Harry.

“Potter,” he spat, not lowering his wand. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry said calmly, although he drew his wand too. Malfoy eyed him warily.

“You think you’re so great, don’t you Potter? Well, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to see your face when I -” He stopped suddenly, his face flushing.

“When you what, Malfoy?” Harry asked, taking a step closer. Malfoy scowled.

“Never you mind,” he drawled, a smirk appearing again on his face.

The two glowered at each other, not noticing another set of footsteps echoing down the corridor. Professor Snape turned the corner, his robes billowing behind him. He surveyed the two boys, eyeing their drawn wands, and the mutual look of hatred on their faces.

“If there are two boys loitering in the corridors, why is one of them always Potter?” he said with a sneer, his eyes running over Harry. 

“I was just going back to my Common Room, sir,” Harry said stiffly, not looking at him.

“Really?” Snape said coldly. “Then why, might I ask, are you heading for the Slytherin Common Room? I trust that after six years of living in this castle you know where your Common Room is?”

“Yes,” Harry said abruptly. “But I thought I heard something. Someone whispering.”

“Did you? And why did you think that someone whispering is any of your concern?  
Or does Harry Potter, The Chosen One, think it is his duty to listen in on other people’s private conversations? I daresay that Mr Malfoy’s whispering has nothing to do with you whatsoever.”

“I don’t remember saying that it was Malfoy who was whispering, sir,” Harry pointed out calmly. Snape looked momentarily thrown, and then sneered again.

“I can put two and two together, Potter. Now go to your Common Room straight away, and don’t let me see you wandering around again. Draco, follow me please.” 

As Harry turned to leave, he noticed that Snape shot a meaningful glance at Malfoy, and Malfoy gave a barely perceptible nod as he turned to follow him. As Harry walked up the stairs, he thought about what he had just seen and heard. Malfoy was clutching his arm…did that mean he had a dark mark imprinted onto his skin? Who was he talking to? What mission had he been given that he was finding so hard? And what, Harry thought with a frown, made Snape look at Malfoy in that way? Was he in on it too?

* * * 

“That was excellent, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a smile, leaning back in his chair. “Your occlumency shields are stronger than ever. I think it will be very hard for Voldemort to break into your mind again.”

“But you think he will still be able to?” Harry asked, reading between the lines of Dumbledore’s answer. The two were in Dumbledore’s office following another occlumency lesson.

“It is a possibility, yes,” Dumbledore conceded. “But it becomes less and less likely as your skills grow stronger. Now, Harry…I would suggest you spend some time with your friends before everyone goes to bed. I am afraid you are overworked,” he said, eyeing the shadows under Harry’s eyes and his pale face.

“I’m okay, sir,” Harry said automatically. “There’s just…I just wanted to talk to you about something before I go. I won’t take up much more of your time,” he said hurriedly, but Dumbledore smiled.

“My time is mine to give, Harry, and I cannot think of anyone more worthy of it than you.”

“Er…right,” Harry said hastily. “Well, its just…yesterday I was walking to the Common Room and I heard someone…well, whispering, in a nearby corridor. But it wasn’t like normal whispering, it sounded…I dunno, weird. So I just went along to see what it was.”

“Quite understandable. Continue.” 

“Well, it was Malfoy. He was kind of clutching his arm…his lower left arm,” he said significantly. “You know, where the dark mark is?” he added, when Dumbledore’s face remained impassive.

“I know where the dark mark is, Harry.”

“Yeah…well, Malfoy said something about not being able to wait until he sees my face when he does something…some mission he’s been set. And then Snape came -”

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected lightly.

“Yes, sir. Well anyway, he came and told me off for being in that corridor, and then he asked Malfoy to stay behind, and as I left, I saw him look at Malfoy in a really meaningful way…like he was trying to pass on a message or something.” 

“I see,” Dumbledore said calmly. “And why did you want to tell me this, Harry?”

“Well,” Harry said with a frown. “Sir…I think…I think Malfoy is a Death Eater.” He paused there, waiting for Dumbledore’s reaction, but when there was none he continued. “I think Voldemort’s set him some kind of task here, and he’s finding it hard to do. And sir…I also think…I think Snape’s in on it too.” He said the last part very quickly, and then held his breath. Dumbledore sighed.

“Harry,” he said tiredly, “You have voiced your concerns over Professor Snape many times now, and every time I have told you that I trust him. And I will continue to do so.”

“But sir -” Harry began angrily, but Dumbledore raised a hand.

“Harry, I appreciate you telling me this, but I must ask now that you put it out of your mind. Mr Malfoy is not going unwatched. We are aware of where his family’s loyalties lie, and we are taking no chances. I do not think you need to concern yourself with this any further.”

Harry frowned angrily for a while, and then sighed. “Fine,” he said dully. “If that’s what you think…”

“It is,” Dumbledore agreed pleasantly. “Harry, do not take in upon yourself to watch the world. We are all looking out for you, and that means we are watching every student far more closely then you can imagine. You do not need to worry about this. You have your own mission to worry about, and I know you will succeed in it.”

“How d’you know, sir?” Harry asked listlessly.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Because I have faith in you, Harry. I trust you. I know you will not let us down.” Harry nodded at him, and turned to go.

  
“Hey,” Ginny smiled, as Harry walked into the Common Room. “I was just about to give up and go to bed.”

“Thanks for waiting,” Harry said, sitting down next to her on the sofa. The Common Room was otherwise deserted. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling at once the sense of security and contentment he felt when he was with her.

“How was it?” Ginny asked softly, playing with his tie, which had come loose.

“Same old,” Harry said with a shrug. “I told him about Malfoy and Snape, though. You know, what I heard the other day.”

“And what did he say?”

Harry pulled a face. “That I shouldn’t worry about it. That Malfoy is being watched, and that he trusts Snape.”

“Well, maybe he’s right to trust Snape,” Ginny suggested lightly. “Oh, come on, Harry,” she said impatiently as his body tensed. “I know you don’t like him…I don’t either, he’s a nasty piece of work, But that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s working for the other side.”

Harry shook his head stubbornly. “No, Ginny, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the way he looked at Malfoy. There’s no proof he ever stopped working for Voldemort, none at all. Come on, you can’t seriously think he’s on our side?”

“Dumbledore trusts him,” Ginny said simply. “He must have his reasons, he’s not exactly stupid, is he?”

“No, but he’s been wrong before, hasn’t he?” Harry said coldly. “We both know that.” He pulled away and folded his arms, looking in the other direction. Ginny stood up quickly.

“Harry, I am not going to put up with your moods tonight! You’ve been snappy for God know how long, and then whenever I think you’re getting better you blow up again! I know it’s not easy for you, but it’s not exactly a walk in the park for me, either! There’s only so much a person can take, and if you’re going to carry on like this, then maybe I should find another boyfriend!” A loud silence followed her words, and Harry and Ginny glared at each other. Harry was half-annoyed at his girlfriend’s words, and half-amused by her fiery streak. He leaned back against the sofa and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said tiredly. Ginny immediately sat back down next to him.

“I know you are,” she said softly. “And I am too. You know I didn’t mean that, it’s just…it’s hard sometimes. Whenever I feel that we’re getting closer, you just…pull away. And it hurts me.”

“I’m sorry, Gin,” Harry said earnestly, taking her small hand in his. “I don’t mean to…I don’t even notice that I’m doing that. I just…I dunno, I just think I need my own space sometimes. It helps me deal with things.”

Ginny nodded. “I understand. But it helps to talk to me too, you know. And Ron and Hermione. We’re your friends. We’re going to be here for you, no matter what.”

Harry smiled and pulled her closer, resting his head on top of hers and breathing in the flowery smell of her hair. She meant so much to him, he realised with a jolt. Whenever he was with her, he felt like he could do anything…she made him believe that he could fulfil the prophecy; she made him believe that he would live, he would have a life without fear for the first time ever.

“I love you, Gin,” he said softly. Ginny said nothing, although Harry could hear her breathing, and feel the rise and fall of her chest against his. He groaned inwardly. Why did he have to say that? He hadn’t even been planning to, he hadn’t even thought about it…it had just slipped out, and Harry realised it was true. Ginny slowly pulled away from him, and raised her eyes to his. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“I love you too, Harry,” she said with a smile, her warm brown eyes locking into his. Harry looked at her, unable to believe that she was his. He bent his head and kissed her, all thoughts of Snape and Voldemort disappearing from his mind. Only one thing mattered right now, and that was the beautiful red-head in his arms. The moon rose and the darkness crept along, casting long shadows across the Common Room, but neither Harry nor Ginny noticed. At times like this, Harry forgot about the prophecy, he forgot he was The Boy Who Lived, he forgot he was The Chosen One. He was simply Harry…a normal, ambitious young man, who was in love with a beautiful and vivacious girl. This was something that no one could take away from him…not even Voldemort. Much later, when the two crept back to their respective bedrooms, Harry climbed into his bed with a smile on his face. For the first time in months he slept soundly, and his dreams were not of death or snakes or dark marks…they were of freckles and kisses, and bright brown eyes.

 

 


	27. The Ultimate Sacrifice

** 27  ** ** **

 

** ** ** The Ultimate Sacrifice **

 

The rain lashed down cruelly onto the windows, making the iron grey sky behind it blur mysteriously. Harry watched a droplet of water meander erratically down the glass, and tapped his quill against his hand. He was bored. He was in a Transfiguration class, but it was a theory lesson rather than a practical, and Harry just couldn’t find it in him to concentrate. He looked out of the window to the deserted grounds, watching the occasional lightening bolt illuminate the sky. He subconsciously raised a hand to his scar, and rubbed it gently. It was tingling slightly, and felt warm under his fingers. He bit his lip, frowning. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what it was, but something just wasn’t right. He looked out of the window again, his eyes darting around restlessly, but there was nothing out there. He sighed and put his head into his hands, random images dancing about in his mind. The golden snitch, flitting about…Malfoy’s look of pain as he clutched his arm…Ginny’s lips as she leaned in to kiss him…Death Eaters raising their hoods as they approached the castle, on the orders of a tall, pale, snake-like man… 

 

Harry sat up with a jolt, his heart pounding. Images hurtled through his mind, and he screwed up his face with the intensity of it. Voldemort…Voldemort had sent his followers to Hogwarts…Harry was certain. He could see the horrible, twisted smile on the man’s face, as he commanded his henchmen. Harry let out a loud gasp, and several heads flicked towards him.

 

“Harry?” Hermione murmured uneasily. “What’s wrong?” Harry said nothing, staring unseeingly into the distance.

 

“Harry, what’s up?” Ron muttered, leaning forward.

 

“Weasley, why are you talking?” Professor McGonagall snapped, her lips pursed.

 

“Er…it was Harry…” Ron said, nodding towards his friend, who was still staring blankly past him.

 

“ Potter? ” Professor McGonagall said sternly, although her annoyance faded as she took in Harry ’ s pale, shaken face.  “ Potter, what is it? ” Harry stared at her vacantly for a while, his mouth slightly open.  “ Potter? ”

 

“ He ’ s sent them, ” he said softly, shaking his head as if trying to rid of unwelcome thoughts.  “ They ’ re here. ”

 

“ What do you mean? ” Professor McGonagall asked sharply, although her face had paled.  “ Who ’ s here? ” Harry stared at her, a frown on his face. McGonagall noticed that his scar was more prominent than usual; it was redder, and seemed to be slightly raised.

 

“ Death Eaters, ” Harry said, his voice still strangely quiet. The class gasped loudly; several people gave small screams.

 

“ Nonsense, Potter, ” McGonagall replied in clipped tones, although her face was still pale.  “ That is impossible. ” That statement seemed to shake Harry from his stupor, and he half stood up from his seat.

 

“ I tell you, they’re here! ” he said, much more loudly.  “I just saw it… Voldemort ’ s ordered his Death Eaters here! ” The class muttered loudly amongst themselves, and Harry heard a few people remark that he must be crazy. He ignored them, standing up fully.

 

“ Potter, are you … are you sure? ” Professor McGonagall said quietly, her hands gripping the edge of her desk.  “ You ’ re certain? ”

 

“ Yes! I saw it! ” Harry said impatiently.  “ They ’ re in the grounds, I don ’ t know where, but they are! I saw! ” Professor McGonagall stared at him for a second, and then nodded briskly.

 

“ I am going to fetch the Headmaster. No, Potter, stay here! ” she said, as Harry took a step forward.  “ All of you! You are to stay here! No-one is to move until I return. ” She turned to go.

 

“ Professor! ” Harry said angrily, his hands balled into fists.  “ You can’t make me stay here! You can’t - ”

 

“ I can and I will, Potter! ” McGonagall said furiously.  “ You are to stay here! You cannot put yourself in danger! ”

 

“ But they ’ re looking for ME! ” Harry yelled, his face turning red.

 

“ Exactly! ” McGonagall snapped.  “ Which is why you will not be going out there! ”

 

“ You can’t protect me forever, Professor! ” Harry said angrily. Professor McGonagall paused.

 

“ No, ” she said finally.  “ We cannot. But we can protect you until you are ready. And you are NOT - READY - YET! I will make sure your Aurors do not allow you to leave the room. ” She shot Harry one final warning look and swept from the classroom. Harry threw himself back down in his chair furiously, ignoring the looks the rest of the class were giving him.

 

“ You alright, Harry? ” Ron asked awkwardly. Harry said nothing. A long silence followed.

 

“ You saw it, Harry? ” Seamus asked sceptically.  “ You saw it in your mind? ”

 

“ Yes, ” Harry replied shortly.

 

“ What, like you can read his mind or something? ” Dean asked, his tone of voice mixed with awe and horror.

 

“ Something like that, ” Harry said.

 

“ Wow, ” Hannah Abbot breathed quietly.  “ That ’ s unbelievable. ”

 

“ It ’ s been happening for years, ” Ron said, sounding strangely proud of his friend ’ s abilities.  “ You-Know-Who can break into his mind and stuff … he talks to him. Dumbledore reckons it ’ s because there ’ s connection between them, from when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry as a baby. ”

 

“ Cheers, Ron, ” Harry said curtly.  “ If I wanted the whole school to know, I would have told them myself. ” Ron looked slightly abashed.

 

“ Sorry, mate. ”

 

“ So is that why you can speak Parseltongue? ” Lavender asked hesitantly.  “ Because of the connection between you two? Because You-Know-Who could speak Parseltongue, couldn’t he? ”

 

“ Yep, ” Harry nodded. He sighed, and then clapped a hand to his scar as it gave a violent twinge.

 

“ Harry? ” Hermione asked worriedly.  “ What just … Harry, sit down! ” she said quickly as Harry stood up from his chair.  “ Remember what McGonagall said! ”

 

“ I ’ m not just sitting here waiting for something to happen! ” Harry snarled, drawing his wand.  “ If you two try to stop me, I will stun you. Don ’ t think I won ’ t, ” he added, as Ron pulled a face.

 

“ Er, Harry ” Seamus said nervously.  “ Your Aurors are outside … McGonagall ordered them not to let you out. ” Harry said nothing, but began to walk quickly past the lines of desks towards the door. Just as he was about to open it, however, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore hurried in. McGonagall gave him a disapproving look.

 

“ Harry, ” Dumbledore said quickly, his face looking very grave.  “ Come with me, please. ” Without waiting for Harry to speak, he left the room again, causing Harry to hurry from the room without a backwards glance at Ron or Hermione. _I hope that_ _ ’ _ _ s not the last time I see them _ , he thought as he followed the Headmaster along the corridor.

 

After Harry had told Dumbledore what he had seen, Dumbledore summoned the Order immediately. The students were instructed to return to their Common Rooms, and the teachers hurried to Dumbledore’s office, where Harry was sat nervously on a chair.

 

“Albus, what are we to do?” squeaked Professor Flitwick in panic. “They have been sighted, the Aurors said they have entered the grounds. There’s about twenty of them!”

 

“Filius, you will guard the Ravenclaw Common Room; make sure nobody leaves. Pomona, you will guard the Hufflepuffs.” Professors Flitwick and Sprout nodded, and Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, you will guard the Gryffindor Common Room.” McGonagall nodded too, and then frowned.

 

“Albus, where is Severus? Surely he should be guarding the Slytherins?”

 

Dumbledore paused, and Harry stared at him. “It seems Severus is otherwise engaged,” he said slowly, avoiding Harry’s gaze. After a few moments the teachers left, and Harry got up too.

 

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore said quickly, turning to face him. “I think it would be safest if you stayed here. You can look after Fawkes for me,” he said with a smile.

 

“Sir, I -” Harry began, but Dumbledore held up at hand.

 

“Please listen to me, Harry. We need to keep you safe, you know that.”

 

“But I can fight! You know I can, sir!”

 

“I do know, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a nod, taking a few steps closer to him. “But it is no use until the Horcruxes are gone. You know that as well as I do.”

 

Harry sighed. “I know, sir. I just feel so…helpless.”

 

Dumbledore smiled, and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I understand. You will prove yourself soon, Harry. But not now. Not yet. We need to keep you safe until the time is right. You must stay.” He gave Harry’s shoulder a brief pat and smiled, before stepping smartly across his room and out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. Harry sighed again, shaking his head in frustration, and lowered himself back into the chair.

 

Fawkes gave a loud squawk, jolting Harry from his reverie. He jumped up and wandered over to the phoenix.

 

“Hey, Fawkes,” he said softly, stroking the bird gently on the head. “It’s okay. Dumbledore will be back soon.” Fawkes squawked again, and flew over towards the window, tapping on it with his beak. “You want me to open it?” Harry asked doubtfully. “I dunno…I think Dumbledore wanted both of us to stay here.” The phoenix turned his black eyes to Harry, and gazed at him so intently that Harry felt strangely uncomfortable. “Okay, okay,” he said, shaking his head as he opened he window. He was immediately greeted by distant shouts and screams coming from the grounds, although he could not see anything. Harry looked back at Fawkes quickly. “Someone’s in danger. Dumbledore’s in danger, isn’t he?” Fawkes gave a gentle caw and perched on the window-ledge, before turning and looking at Harry again.

 

“Right,” Harry said, in sudden understanding. He gripped Fawkes’s tail tightly and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

 

Fawkes unfurled his wings and flew out of the window, and Harry tried not to look at the ground below; it seemed a mile away. Harry felt the rain lash his face and winced. He had forgotten what flying with a phoenix was like, and was momentarily startled by the feel of his weightlessness. Fawkes circled smoothly down, landing gently onto the sodden grass. Harry staggered briefly and then pulled out his wand, his eyes darting around the grounds.

 

“Which way, Fawkes?” he muttered, glancing at the phoenix. Fawkes cawed and set off straight ahead, flying slowly so Harry could keep up. He ran along quickly, careful to stick to the sides of the building so he was less noticeable. He heard the shouts increasing, and upped his speed, his heart hammering madly in his chest. He rounded the corner and ducked underneath a wall, straining his ears.

 

“ - thought I couldn’t do it. But you were all wrong, weren’t you?” A familiar drawl floated over to Harry, and he realised with a flash of anger that it was Malfoy.

 

“Indeed we were, Draco,” another voice said calmly. Harry’s heart stopped. It was Dumbledore. He jumped up from his hiding place, squinting through the rain to see him. Dumbledore was backed against the wall, with Draco Malfoy pointing his wand directing at Dumbledore’s heart. Malfoy was flanked by two Death Eaters, whose faces were obscured by their masks. Dumbledore’s eyes moved slightly to the right and fell open Harry. His mouth opened slightly in surprise, but he closed it again quickly. His hand made a slight jerking movement, and Harry felt the strange sensation of an egg being cracked over his head, and realised that Dumbledore had just performed the disillusionment charm on him.

 

“I’m going to kill you, Dumbledore,” Malfoy drawled, taking a step closer to the Headmaster.

 

“Really, Draco?” Dumbledore replied calmly, as if Malfoy had just said that he was going to go into Hogsmeade. “I don’t think you are. I don’t think you can.”

 

“Don’t say that!” Malfoy said quickly, the drawl fading from his voice. “You don’t know that! I can do it, I’ve been preparing for this for ages!”

 

“You can never prepare for murder, Draco,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “And I do not think you are a killer.”

 

“Come on, Draco, get a move on!” snarled one of the Death Eaters. Harry thought it was Nott. He crept slowly forward, trying not to slip on the wet grass.

 

_ Go back, Harry. _

 

_ _

Harry gasped. Dumbledore had not spoken, nor had he even looked at Harry, yet his voice resounded inside Harry’s head as if he had just spoken into his ear.

 

_ Go back, Harry. If you trust me, you must go back. _

 

_ _

Harry opened his mouth dumbly. Dumbledore continued to look placidly at Draco, and Harry noticed that Malfoy’s hand had started to shake.

 

“It is not too late, Draco,” the Headmaster was saying. “You have been foolish, but foolishness is redeemable. Murder is not.”

 

Malfoy’s hand shook even more. “I have to do it,” he said quietly. “He’ll kill me. He’ll _kill_ me.”

 

“Shut up whining, Malfoy, and get on with it!” snapped the other Death Eater, who Harry thought was Rookwood. Malfoy lowered his wand slightly, his face very pale. “If you don’t do it, I will!” snarled Rookwood.

 

“No! You remember the Dark Lord’s orders…only Malfoy is to do it!” Nott barked.

 

“Well, he doesn’t look as though he’s capable, does he?” sneered Rookwood. Harry inched forward, fear and anger pounding in his stomach. Something pinched his elbow and he whirled around, but it was only Fawkes, pulling his sleeve with his beak.

 

“Fawkes, get off me!” Harry hissed, tugging his arm away. He had had only taken a few steps closer when the phoenix grabbed his sleeve again and dragged him backwards; he was far stronger than his size indicated. “Fawkes!” Harry said angrily, except no sound came from his mouth. He tried again, but only silence came from his lips. He darted another look at Dumbledore, who was following Nott and Rookwood’s argument with an expression of mild interest. Harry realised that this time Dumbledore must have cast a silencing spell on him, and he screwed his face up in frustration. What was Dumbledore playing at? They were about to kill him!

 

“This is your last chance, Draco!” Nott ordered, gesturing towards Dumbledore with his wand. Malfoy looked up at the Headmaster, his face ashen. Dumbledore returned his gaze unflinchingly; there was no condemnation in his light blue eyes, no anger or sadness. He simply looked back at Malfoy calmly, his head tilted slightly to one side. Malfoy swallowed, and Harry knew that he would not kill the Headmaster. For all his cruelness and conceit, Malfoy was not a murderer…or at least not yet he wasn’t, Harry thought bitterly. He struggled towards Dumbledore again, but Fawkes held fast and pulled him further back. Harry let out a torrent of expletives that no one could hear, his feet slipping against the wet grass. Where was everyone else? What had the Death Eaters done to Dumbledore that meant he could not escape? Harry knew the Headmaster was exceptionally skilled with wandless magic - he had just proved it by silencing Harry - so why was he not able to defend himself? What was happening? And where, Harry thought with a scowl, was Snape? No sooner had he thought these words then a figure rounded the corner of the castle, black robes billowing behind him as he took long, measured strides towards Dumbledore and the Death Eaters. It was Snape. Harry let out his breath, the tight knot in his stomach loosening slightly. Snape would be able to get Dumbledore to safety. Snape approached the scene calmly, looking from the Death Eaters to Dumbledore and back again.

 

“And what is going on here?” he asked coolly.

 

“The boy doesn’t seem to be able to do it, Snape,” Rookwood said quickly. Snape turned to Malfoy.

 

“Now why does that not surprise me?” he sneered. Malfoy said nothing. “I did advise the Dark Lord to entrust the task to someone more…worthwhile, but he seemed insistent that Draco should prove himself. Dear dear. He _will_ be disappointed.” Malfoy turned even paler. Harry felt his mouth go dry. He had been right all along; Snape _was_ working for Voldemort. He had been a spy, passing on information from the Order for almost two years. And Dumbledore had trusted him. Always. He had never listened to Harry’s suspicions, never taken his complaints seriously. Harry felt a fresh flame of anger lick his insides and he strained forward again, but Fawkes’s strength was unbelievable; Harry was barely able to move an inch. Snape took a step forward and looked at Dumbledore. The older man looked steadily back, no sign of hurt or shock on his face. The two stared at each other for what seemed to Harry like an age.

 

“We must hurry, Snape, before the Ministry gets here! Malfoy must do it NOW!” Nott snapped. Without turning away from Dumbledore, Snape spoke.

 

“Draco is not able to complete his task; we all know that.”

 

“But he must! He was ordered! Who else will do it?”

 

Snape paused for a moment, and then an ugly smile twisted across his mouth. “I will do it,” he said coldly. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore’s chest. The two Death Eaters and Malfoy were utterly silent; the only sound Harry could hear was the steady drum of raindrops on his head, and the ominous claps of thunder. A few moments passed and nothing happened, although Snape did not lower his wand. And then, for the first time since Snape had appeared, Dumbledore spoke.

 

“Severus…”

 

It was only one word - one simple word - and yet Harry felt his insides ache for his Headmaster. He started at Snape, praying that he would stop, praying that he would not return Dumbledore’s years of kindness and trust in this way. A look of hatred and disgust passed over Snape’s face, and his dark eyes flashed. His mouth twisted in an almost inhuman snarl, and he took a step forward.

 

“Avada Kedavra!” he hissed from between clenched teeth. A jet of green light shot into Dumbledore’s chest, and he was slammed back against the wall. He seemed to rest there for a moment, as though he was merely leaning idly against it, but then he slumped down it; slowly, terribly. Harry stared in horror as his Headmaster tumbled onto the grass and was still, his face obscured by Snape’s shadow. There was a long silence, and then Snape turned.

 

“Come on,” he said brusquely. “Let’s go.” Seizing Malfoy by the arm, he set off at a run, quickly followed by Nott and Rookwood. The scream that had torn Harry’s throat when the green light flashed had gone unheard, but the yell of rage that came from him as the four turned away was audible to all. They turned abruptly, wands at the ready. Fawkes fluttered away, circling high into the sky, and Harry realised that the disillusionment charm had lifted. A grin spread nastily over Nott’s face.

 

“Harry Potter. The Dark Lord _will_ be pleased. His two greatest enemies, felled in one night.” He raised his wand.

 

“No!” Snape snarled, glaring at Harry. “The boy is not to be harmed - you remember what the Dark Lord said! Now go!” They turned to run again, and after a short pause Harry sprinted forward. The Death Eaters had their backs to him, and without even thinking of using his wand, he leapt onto Snape, grabbing him by the neck and wrestling him to the ground. Nott, Rookwood and Malfoy presumably had heard nothing, for they continued running in the opposite direction. Harry pinned Snape to the ground, his fingers tight around his throat.

 

“You killed him!” he said, his voice strangely high. “You killed him!” He tightened his grip on Snape’s throat, feeling hatred pounding through his veins. He had to kill him. He had to kill him now. If he did, then it would be okay; Dumbledore would not be dead. Snape choked, and then some sort of current seemed to run through him, causing Harry to release him as though he’d been burned. Snape staggered up, pointing his wand at Harry, a terrible expression passing over his face.

 

“You are a fool, Potter!” he sneered, his eyes reflecting only hatred. “Dumbledore is not here to save you now, and once again you have put yourself in danger.”

 

“I don’t need Dumbledore to save me!” Harry yelled, raising his own wand, but Snape was too quick. With a flick of his wand he disarmed Harry, and with another flick sent him toppling to the ground.

 

“Fool!” Snape repeated, his face contorted with loathing. “Your self-centred conceit will be the end of you, Potter! You have been given false hope; a mediocre duelling ability will not be enough to save you from the Dark Lord, nor from his followers! In time you will learn this!” He slashed his wand through the air, and Harry felt red-hot pain stab his insides. He yelled in pain and the curse lifted. He scrambled to his feet, but again Snape was ready. He pointed his wand at Harry, and thick ropes sprang from it, winding around him until he was securely tied. He struggled against it, but it was in vain; he was tightly bound. Snape sneered down at him.

 

“You see, Potter. You are too easy.”

 

“You killed him!” Harry yelled numbly, seemingly unable to say anything else. “He trusted you!”

 

“Yes, he did, Potter,” Snape said quietly, a hideous smile on his face. “Perhaps, in time, you too will see who is trustworthy…and who is not.” With a final leer he turned, running in the direction the others had gone in. Harry sat there in silence for a while, the rain plastering his hair to his head, dripping into his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and summoned all his concentration, and a second later the thick ropes that bound him burst into flames and disappeared. He got to his feet shakily, stumbling around until he found his wand. Slipping it into his pocket, he walked blindly back to the castle, only half aware of the crowd that was forming against the nearest wall. He felt numb, unreal…as though he had just woken from a nightmare but was not yet fully conscious. The group of students was getting larger by the second; more and more were filing out from the entrance hall, scared looks on their faces. A few teachers were there too, trying to push in front of the students, trying to regain some sense of order. Harry walked dully towards them, and as though he had issued some kind of command, the crowd drew apart, letting him pass to the front. He could hear whispers, sobs, strangled screams…but none of it registered. All that mattered was person lying motionless on the ground, the person who was causing all the chaos and disarray.

 

Dumbledore was lying where Harry had left him, just as Harry had known he would be. He had known Dumbledore was dead; he had known it since Snape had spoken those dreadful words. Dumbledore would never have left him alone with Snape, never have left him at the mercy of three Death Eaters. Yet although he had known this, nothing could have destroyed the faint glimmer of hope that assured him Dumbledore could not have died; nothing could have readied him for the colossal wave of grief that swept over him, tearing at his heart. He knelt down next to his Headmaster, looking at his wise old face that was, even in death, calm and peaceful. There was even the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. Harry felt his heart constrict. It couldn’t be true. He could not just die…not like that. Not because of Snape.  It couldn’t be true. He reached out a hand towards Dumbledore’s shoulder and shook him gently, half hoping that he would stir as he did so. But he remained motionless. Harry waited, holding his breath, but Dumbledore remained unmoving on the ground.

 

"Come on, sir," he whispered, hoping that any minute Dumbledore would sit up, straighten the half-moon glasses that sat crookedly on his nose, and smile up at him. But still no response came. Dumbledore's eyes remained closed, his face impassive. The first tears started to sting Harry’s eyes. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He wanted to touch him, but he was afraid to; he didn't know what he would do if he touched Dumbledore’s cheek and found it icy cold. 

 

“No, sir…please….no.”

 

His arms were suddenly around him, hugging him like he should have done one thousand times before. It couldn't be true. It couldn’t be. This was Dumbledore…the great Albus Dumbledore; the man who would have done anything for Harry, the man who had loved him like a son. The man who had died for him, like so many had before. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said to him during their last Occlumency lesson, just one day previously: “ I trust you. I know you will not let us down”. But Harry had. He  had failed him, like he had failed Sirius, like he had failed Cedric, like he had failed his parents. There were so many things he should have said to Dumbledore; so many times he should have thanked him. He had never told him what he had meant to him, what he had come to feel for him. He was more than a Headmaster, more than a mentor, more than a friend…and Harry had never told him. He had never bothered, and now that opportunity was gone forever.

 

Grief pulsed through his heart - the pain of this loss was hitting him harder than ever. He had never known pain this great; it was as if the loss of his mother, his father, of Cedric, of Sirius, were all combined in the body of the old man at his knees, and he buried his face in Dumbledore’s shoulder, his eyes burning. 

 

"Please don't be dead," he whispered. "I can’t do this alone. You know I can’t." His body shook uncontrollably. "I need you, sir...please wake up…please don't be dead." The pain in his chest was increasing, constricting his breathing, crushing his heart. He could hear whispers, cries from the crowd around him, but he saw nothing except for the midnight blue blur that was Dumbledore’s body, hazy through his tears.

 

Someone tried to tug his arms away from Dumbledore, but he shook them away. What was the point in leaving? What was the point in doing anything anymore?  Dumbledore was dead, and every hope Harry had ever clung to had just died with him. There was no use now. It was finished. It was over.

 

 

 

 


	28. Enough

****Sorry about the shortage of regular updates** **…** **our internet isn** **’** **t working which means I have to go to my friend** **’** **s house in order to upload it. But I AM continuing writing, so it looks like I** **’** **ll be updating two chapters at a time until we get it sorted! Hope you enjoy this one** **J** ******  


**28**

**Enough**

 

A hand tugged again at Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Harry. Harry, come on now. Please come with me.”

 

Professor McGonagall knelt next to him, her face twitching with grief. Harry shook his head, and Professor McGonagall’s eyes rested back on Dumbledore. She gave a sob, pressing her hands over her mouth to try to quell it.

 

“Please Harry,” she whispered. “I can’t be here. I need to talk to you. Please.” She placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder with surprising tenderness. “Please come with me.”

It was the fact that Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose it like this that made him get to his feet. Still touching his shoulder, McGonagall guided him though the crowd, steering him away from the inquisitive faces and whispered questions. She led him up the stairs and to the entrance hall, where more students and teachers were gathering, huddling together in groups. Harry noticed several Gryffindors, including Ron and Hermione, but he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge them.

 

“Harry?” said Hermione, running towards him. “What’s happened? People are saying there was an attack…are you okay?” Harry said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to look into her eyes and see the fear behind them.

  

“Are you alright, mate?” Ron asked quietly, following Harry and Professor McGonagall down the corridor. His face was very pale, and his freckles stood out prominently. “Someone said something about Dumbledore being involved…?”

 

“Dumbledore’s dead,” Harry said monotonously. Next to him, he felt Professor McGonagall flinch. Ron and Hermione both stopped, their mouths dropping open in shock.

 

“Dead?” Hermione whispered, clinging to Ron’s arm. “He can’t be…dead. How?”

 

“Snape killed him,” Harry said, but this time his voice was harsh, and laced with fury. “Dumbledore trusted him, and he killed him.” Hermione put her hands over her mouth, tears springing into her eyes. Ron looked strangely vacant.

 

“Snape…” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I always thought…well, I always thought he was on our aide, however much of a git he was.”

 

"Weasley, Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, attempting to get back to her usual crisp manner. “Please could you ensure that your fellow Gryffindors return to the common room. I will be down to talk to you all shortly.” Ron and Hermione nodded.

 

“Are you coming, Harry?” Hermione asked, touching his arm gently.

 

“Potter will be coming with me,” McGonagall said. “I need to speak with him. Come along, Harry.” Without looking at Ron or Hermione, Harry dutifully followed McGonagall down the corridor and up the stairs towards Dumbledore’s office. They walked in slowly, and Harry was careful not to look at the wall of portraits; he was not ready to see the latest addition. He sat down in the chair he always took, although it felt strange to be sitting opposite Professor McGonagall rather than Dumbledore.

 

“Harry,” Professor McGonagall said quietly, looking at him intently. “I need you to tell me what happened. You were left up here. Why did go outside? What happened?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Fawkes started tapping on the window, trying to get out, and I realised that Dumbledore must be in danger. I held onto Fawkes and he flew down. I heard voices and followed them, and I saw Malfoy standing next to Nott and Rookwood. Malfoy was pointing his wand at Dumbledore.” He stopped and swallowed heavily. “Malfoy said he was going to kill him, but Dumbledore said that he didn’t think Malfoy could do it, because he wasn’t a killer. Dumbledore saw me and put a disillusionment charm on me, and then a silencing charm, so the Death Eaters wouldn’t notice me. He spoke to me, inside my head…I dunno how. He told me that I had to stay back. Malfoy was hesitating, and then Snape arrived. He asked what was happening, and Nott and Rookwood said Malfoy couldn’t do it. So Snape said that he would do it. And he did. He killed Dumbledore. I tried to stop him, I tried to get there, but Fawkes kept pulling me back. I tried, but I couldn’t.” He looked away. Professor McGonagall took a deep breath.

 

“And then what happened?”

 

Harry shrugged again. “The charms wore off and they saw me. Nott wanted to kill me, but Snape said that Voldemort wanted me alive. They ran off, but I grabbed Snape and pinned him down. I was choking him but he managed to throw me off. He hexed me with some sort of torture curse, and said that Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to save me anymore, and I won’t be able to get away from Voldemort or his Death Eaters. Then he tied me up and ran off.” 

 

A long silence followed this, and Professor McGonagall raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

 

“Harry…I know you have been meeting with Professor Dumbledore regularly, and I know you both were involved in some sort of mission. What was it?”

 

Harry paused. “I can’t tell you, Professor.”

 

“Perhaps I can help. Dumbledore would not have expected you to continue whatever it is on your own.” 

 

“No, I think he would have. He was very explicit about me not telling anyone. And thank you for offering, but you can’t help me. No one can now.”

 

Professor McGonagall looked annoyed, and was about to speak when the door opened and all the teachers - except Snape and Professor Trelawney - came in, all of them looking very distressed. Professor McGonagall repeated what Harry had told her, and Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey both burst into noisy tears.

 

“I jus’ can’ believe it!” Hagrid sobbed, mopping his face with an enormous spotted handkerchief. “Dumbledore…dead! An’ Snape doin’ the killin’! After all Dumbledore’s done for ‘im, after he trusted ’im when no one else would! Great man, Dumbledore. Great man.” He buried his face in his handkerchief and positively howled.

 

“There, there, Hagrid,” McGonagall said, giving him an awkward pat on the arm. “You must be strong, especially since you are now Head of Gryffindor House.” Hagrid carried on sobbing, but after a while he lifted his head, tears still spilling down his cheeks.

 

“Head of Gryffindor? Wha’ d’you mean?” 

 

“Well, as Deputy Head it is my duty to take over the role of Headmistress - at least until the school year is out. Therefore, I cannot positively fulfil my role as Head of House, too. I need to appoint someone else, and I think you would be an admirable choice.”

 

“Me?” Hagrid breathed in disbelief. “But…I was expelled! I can’ be a Head of House!”

 

“It is what Albus would have wanted, I am sure of it,” Professor McGonagall said firmly. “I also think it would be his wish for the school to stay open. Does anyone disagree?” No one did.

 

“What about the funeral, Minerva?” Professor Sinistra said shakily. “When will that be? And will it be for the whole school?”

 

“I think it should be in a few days, in the grounds of the school. That is what he wanted. I will have to talk to the Ministry about it, but I think they will consider it a safety risk if the whole school attends. A thousand pupils in one open area is not advisable in these circumstances. I think perhaps we should have a service in the Great Hall for the students, and afterwards the funeral in the grounds. I think it is best if it is only close friends and colleagues who attend that.”

 

“No students,” said Professor Flitwick with a nod.

 

“I’m coming,” Harry said loudly, looking up suddenly.

 

“You are a student, Mr Potter,” Professor Sprout pointed out, although not unkindly.

 

“I don’t care. I’m coming,” Harry repeated firmly. The teachers looked at Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be hesitating. Then she gave a quick nod.

 

“Mr Potter can come. I think he was more than a student to Albus.”

 

Hagrid burst into tears again at this. “He was! He was! Loved ’im like a son, he did! Always lookin’ out for ’im, ever since he was a baby! Harry here was his favourite ever student, I’m sure of it! C’mere, Harry!” He pulled Harry into a bone-crunching hug. “I’ll look after you now, don’ you worry! I’ll help you bring down that Snape…are you goin’ to go lookin’ for ’im?” There was a silence as every teacher looked at Harry with interest, although Professor McGonagall was looking disapproving.

 

“No, Hagrid. Not just yet, anyway,” he said wearily, disentangling himself from Hagrid’s arms. “But when I do, I’ll let you know, okay?” Hagrid nodded, and burst into a fresh bout of tears. Harry looked at Professor McGonagall.

 

“Professor, can I go now?”

 

McGonagall paused, and then nodded. “Yes, you may, but I want you to return tomorrow, Harry. There are still some things I want to discuss with you.” Harry nodded dully and left the room. He trudged slowly back to the common room, his mind deliberately blank. He did not have his Aurors following his around anymore; they had left him in all the commotion, and Harry knew they would not be guarding him anymore. The Ministry thought they should protect the grounds of the school more, for no one could explain how the Death Eaters managed to get in. He climbed through the portrait whole, trying not to notice the immediate silence that fell as he stepped in. It seemed as though every Gryffindor was gathered there, every face staring at him. He ignored them, walking quickly towards the stairs that led to his dormitory. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing there, waiting for him. He stopped in front of Ginny, and she took one of his hands in here.

 

“Harry?” she said softly, looking up in to his face. He shook his head.

 

“I just want to be alone now, Gin. Okay?” He pulled his hand away, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll talk to you three tomorrow.” He turned abruptly, and walked quickly up the stairs. His dormitory was empty, as he knew it would be, and he sank down onto his bed, not bothering to remove his shoes. Outside it was darkening, black clouds forming over the leaden sky, rain still spitting viciously to the ground. Harry wondered where they had put Dumbledore’s body. He could not still be there now. He lay in silence, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. Dumbledore was dead. The one person who could have helped him had gone…had left him. It was another name to add to his list, another person who had died for him. It was not real. How could it be? How could he ever do this on his own? How could Dumbledore have told him to go back? How could he have trusted Snape after everything Harry had told him, after everything he had done? 

 

He heard Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean come in a while later, but he pretended to be asleep. Minutes passed and still he lay there, his eyes open although the room was black. Hours passed and the sound of Ron’s snoring floated around the room, yet still Harry lay there, numb and cold. He felt as though he was screaming, screaming until his throat tore and his eyes stung, yet no one would come. Surely he was dreaming? He was more alone than he had ever been; no one could help him now, no one could get through. He stood up quietly and left the room, walking through the deserted common room and out of the portrait hole. He walked as though in a dream, not sure where he was going, his hands slightly outstretched. It was only when he reached the second floor that he realised where he was going. He pushed open the door to the unused classroom, shutting it behind him and walking into the middle. He was in the empty classroom that had housed the Mirror of Erised in his first year; the room where he had first spoken with Dumbledore. He slowly sat down and crossed his legs, staring at the place where the mirror had stood.

 

Never again would Dumbledore watch over him…never again would he be there to turn to. He had been taken from Harry, as everyone he had cared for had been taken from him. It seemed as though life was mocking him; as soon as he got close to someone, as soon as he felt that someone cared for him, they were snatched away, leaving him more isolated and disheartened than ever before. Who would be next? Ron? Hermione? Ginny? Harry could not let this happen again; he could not let anybody else stand in the way of him and Voldemort. Voldemort wanted him, and him alone. As Harry sat there in the empty, shadowy room, he swore to himself that he would finish this. Not for himself, but for the people who been taken from him; the people he had failed. He was not going let this ever happen again. His heart could not take it anymore. His hands curled into fists as he pictured Dumbledore’s face in his mind, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered to the empty room. “I’ll finish this. I’ll do it. I promise you.” The ache that had been in his throat since Snape had spoken the words was increasing. He had not cried properly before - he was too numb, too disbelieving. But here in the room where they had first spoken, over six years ago, Harry fully realised that Dumbledore was never coming back. He had gone. Tears formed in his eyes and spilled over his cheeks, and he let them - the awful ache in his chest subsided slightly as he sobbed. He cried for Dumbledore, for Sirius, for everyone who had lost their lives because of Voldemort. And he cried for himself; for the young, naïve boy he had been when he had spoken to Dumbledore in this room, for the childhood he had lost, and the love he had never known. After a few minutes he stopped, wiping a hand roughly over his eyes. “Enough,” he murmured to himself, resting against the wall. “Enough now.” Against his will his eyes closed, and exhaustion took him over. There, in the empty classroom, he finally slept.

 

He awoke hours later, when the sun was in the sky and the room was surprisingly warm. He got to his feet, rubbing his eyes blearily. He checked his watch; it was half past eleven. He walked slowly up the stairs and through the portrait hole, stepping into the Gryffindor common. He was immediately met by a very anxious Ron.

 

“Harry! Where the bloody hell have you been?” he said, running up and stopping in front of him, his face pale. Harry stared.

 

“What?” he said stupidly, as Ginny and Hermione came hurrying over. “What d’you mean?”

 

“What do I mean? Harry, we woke up today and you weren’t there!” Ron said weakly. “The Fat Lady said you’d left in the middle of the night, and hadn’t come back! McGonagall’s been in a total state - she’s had the whole House looking for you!”

 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, I just…went for a walk. What’s the big deal?”

 

“What’s the big deal? Ginny and Hermione have been in tears the last few hours, mate!” Ron said accusingly, and sure enough, both girls had very red-rimmed eyes. 

“No one knew where you had gone, we searched most of the castle, some people are out in the grounds…we thought maybe you…” He trailed off.

 

“Maybe I what?” Harry asked tonelessly.

 

“Well, maybe you had gone. I mean, gone after You-Know-Who…and Snape.” Ron said uneasily. Harry didn’t respond. “Well, at least you’re back now. Where were you?”

 

“Oh, just…around,” Harry said vaguely. His three friends stared at him for a while, and then realised that they weren’t going to get any more out of him.

 

“Okay. Well, anyway…McGonagall will want to see you. You’d better go now before she gets even madder.” Harry nodded and turned back to go when he felt a soft touch on his arm. Ginny was looking at him intently, her face sad.

 

“Harry…” she said softly.

 

“I’ve got to see McGonagall, Ginny,” Harry said listlessly, avoiding her eyes. He could not bear to look into them, knowing what he had to do. “I’ll see you after, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out. Hermione drew Ginny into a hug.

 

Harry knocked quietly on the door of Dumbledore’s office and entered. Professor McGonagall was sitting at the desk, her hand over her eyes. 

 

“Er…Professor? You wanted to see me?” Harry asked awkwardly, hovering by the door. She looked up at him at once, relief passing over her face, although it was quickly replaced with anger.

 

“Potter,” she said, standing up and folding her arms. “Where on earth have you been?”

 

“Just…you know…”

 

“No, I do not know. Did it even cross your mind that we would worry? Finding your bed empty in the morning, no idea where you were, after all that had happened? Did you not think?”

 

“No,” Harry answered truthfully.

 

“No. I didn’t think so. You cannot just go off like that, Potter. It’s not safe.”

 

“I didn’t even leave the school!” Harry said exasperatedly.

 

“That is not the point!” McGonagall snapped, her face taut with anger. “The point is that you had us running around on a wild goose chase! I was just about to inform the Order that you had disappeared!”

 

“I’m sorry, alright?” Harry said in frustration. “I didn’t plan on staying there all night. I only planned to go out for a while but I fell asleep.” 

 

“Where did you go?” Professor McGonagall asked, rather sharply. “Potter?” Harry paused.

 

“Nowhere. Just…I just wanted to be alone.”

 

“Potter…” Professor McGonagall sighed, and then sat down heavily into her chair. “Sit,” she commanded, indicating the seat at the other side of her desk. Harry sat down obediently. “Harry,” she began again, her tone slightly softer. “I understand that this must be a difficult time for you. I know that you were close to the Headmaster.” Harry looked away. “But you need to understand that this is not just about you. Although we may not be as involved as you are, we are still part of this war and it is still difficult for us, too. You can’t just go off like that. You have no idea how worried we were.”

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Harry said, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

 

“Professor Dumbledore would not have wanted you to do it on your own - whatever it is you are attempting to do.” She paused, as if waiting for Harry to speak, but he said nothing. “Why are you being so secretive? Why won’t you trust us?”

 

“Its not that I don’t trust you, Professor,” Harry said slowly. “It’s just that…I’ve got things I need to do on my own now.” Professor McGonagall opened her mouth but Harry spoke again. “And I’m glad we’re here now, because I’ve got something to tell you.”

 

Professor McGonagall looked wary. “And what is that, Potter?”

 

“I’m not going to finish the year here,” Harry said quickly. “I’m…well, I’m quitting.”

 

“What do you mean?” said McGonagall, in a dangerously quiet voice. Harry sighed.

 

“I mean what I said. I’m not going to go to my lessons. I’m not going to do the work. I’m not going to sit the exams. I’ve got more important things to do right now.”

 

Professor McGonagall stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t…you can’t do that, Potter. You’re halfway through your N.E.W.Ts…you can’t just quit!”

 

“Professor, there are more important things than N.E.W.Ts right now!” Harry said impatiently. “If things carry on like this, there won’t even be any students to come to this school…there won’t even be a school! You know that as well as I do.”

 

“But…you can’t just leave! What are you going to do? Where are you going to stay?”

 

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, that depends on you, Professor. Will I still be able to stay at Hogwarts if I’m not a student here anymore?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I want to stay at Hogwarts for a while. I’m going to need the library and the facilities, and also - despite what happened yesterday - I don’t think there’s anywhere safer for me to be.”

 

There was a long silence. “Yes, you can stay, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said wearily. “Only because I know that is what Professor Dumbledore would have wanted. And also on the condition that when this is over - when you have done what you have to do - you will return.”

 

Harry was silent for a while. “Professor, I don’t know if I’ll be…I mean, I might not be…”

 

“Don’t you say what I think you are going to, Potter!” McGonagall snapped.

 

Harry let out his breath. “Yes, Professor. I will come back when it’s finished.”

 

“Good,” Professor McGonagall said crisply. “Then you may stay.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry said, standing up. “And Professor…I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to have time for Quidditch anymore.”

 

“You’re going to stop playing Quidditch, too? So now, on top all my other duties, I am forced to find a new Seeker and a new captain, too.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said sincerely. “But I think Ginny Weasley would make a good Seeker - she played year when I was banned, instead of Chaser. And I think Ron would make a great captain. So, er…can I go now?” McGonagall looked at him for a long time.

 

“Yes, Potter. You may go.”

 

When Harry arrived back in the common room Ginny was waiting by the portrait hole for him.

 

“Want to go for a walk?” she asked him gently. Harry looked at all the faces staring at him from inside, and nodded.

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” She slipped her hand inside his and he did not pull away, savouring the comfort that her touch gave him. They walked slowly down the stairs and though the entrance hall. The day was sunny, and a light breeze lifted their hair as they walked across the grounds and to the lake. When they reached the edge they stopped, turning to look at each other. They were both quiet for a while.

 

“Ginny,” Harry said softly, “Ginny, I…”

 

“I know what you’re going to say, Harry,” Ginny said quietly, looking up at him. “I think I’ve known it for a while.”

 

Harry swallowed. “You understand, don’t you?”

 

She shrugged. “Not really. It’s one of those noble things you do that doesn’t make sense to anyone but you. But you’ve always been like that. I should be used to it by now.”

 

“Gin, it’s not…well, you know it’s nothing to do with you. You have meant more to me…you…” He shook his head in frustration. “Look, I love you and you know I do. But I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t do it.”

 

“What makes you think you’re going to lose me?” she asked calmly.

 

“Because everyone I care for…he uses them against me, Gin. When he was talking to me in my mind he was threatening me with it…he was saying that he knew I cared for you….that he’d kill you first. I can’t live with that, Ginny. I’m not safe to be around. You know that.”

 

Ginny sighed and looked down. “I love you, Harry. I probably always will. And I know why you’re doing this, although I can’t say it makes it any easier. Just know that we’re here for you. I’m here for you. Maybe not in the way I was, but I’m still here. And you can talk to me. If you need any help, you know you can ask me.”

 

Harry nodded, knowing that he would never ask her for help, he would never involve her any more than she was already. “Thanks, Gin. And…if I survive…I do this…you and me, you know…”

 

She smiled at his awkwardness. “I know.” She reached up and kissed him lightly on cheek. “Good luck, Harry.” She gave him one last smile and walked away, the sunlight dancing on her long red hair. Harry watched her go until she reached the castle and went inside. His heart felt like it was breaking. He had had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from calling after her, asking her to come back, to stay with him. He knew that was not an option, He knew the time had come. He walked slowly around the lake, staring out at the placid surface, and trying not to think about the long and troubled road that ahead of him. 

 

 

**Yes, I know** **…** **ve** **ry similar to HBP! But its hard to know how much to change and how much to keep when the next part of my story is continuing from canon! But this is where HBP ends, so the rest is all my guess work for book 7! I should have def finished by the time book 7 comes out - that** **’** **s my plan, anyway** **…** **who** **’** **s going to read fan fiction when they have the real thing?!**  
**Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, please REVIEW!** **J**   


 


	29. Storm Clouds

**29  
**

****

  
Storm Clouds  
  


  
True to his word, Harry quit his lessons, much to the dismay of Hermione. Ron’s alarm at Harry quitting the Quidditch team struggled against his joy at being made captain, and he contented himself with giving Harry the occasional odd look as he stroked his captain’s badge.  


  
“You’re mad, you are,” he said, holding the gold badge up so it caught the light. “I dunno how you could’ve given this up.” Harry shrugged, turning back to the books he had spread over a table in the common room. It was a Friday afternoon a fortnight after Dumbledore’s death, and most students were in lessons. Apart from Neville, who was reading, and few other sixth and seventh years who had free periods, the common room was quiet.  


  
“What’s that you’re reading, Harry?” Hermione asked kindly, turning the book over to see the front cover. “The Complete Anthology of Ancient and Evil Curses. Oh. That looks interesting. Can I help?”  


  
“You’ve just lost my page, Hermione,” Harry said tiredly. “And no, thanks for offering, but you can’t help. This book is pretty useless anyway. It calls itself a ’Complete Anthology’ and yet it doesn’t even mention Horcruxes…not once.”  


  
“What are you trying to find out?” Hermione asked, handing him back the book.   


  
“How to destroy them,” Harry said impassively. “Dumbledore never told me how to do it.”  
  


“Maybe I can help?” she suggested gently.  


  
“Nah, it‘s okay. I’ve got it.”  
  


Hermione paused. “It’s not a problem, Harry. You know I like finding out about things. Let me help you. If you won’t let me help you properly, at least let me look at some books for you.”  
  


Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, okay. Thanks. Maybe you could try to do a bit of research about what the other Horcruxes might be. Dumbledore thinks….thought…one was Nagini, but he wasn’t so sure about what the other one could have been. He thought it was something of Gryffindor’s, but he didn’t know what. D’you think you could try and find anything out?”  
  


“Of course!” she beamed, standing up. “I’ll go down to the library right away!” She hurried out of the room.  
  


“Well,” Ron said slowly, “she’s happy now.” Harry grunted. “Harry…well, is there anything I can do? You know, to help?”  
  


“No, Ron, there isn’t. Really, I mean it. At the moment I just need to find out what the Horcruxes are and how to destroy them.”  
  


“Well, maybe I can help with that too?”  
  


“Nah, Hermione’s on it. It’s fine, Ron.”  
  


“Okay,” Ron said resignedly. “But you should really…you should let us help you.” Harry said nothing. “Harry…what happened with you and Ginny?”   
  


Harry looked up, startled. “What d’you mean?”  
  


“Well, she won’t tell me anything, and nor will Hermione…she said if Ginny wanted to tell me she would have. But…I’m her brother. I have a right to know. What’s going on?”  
  


Harry sighed. “We broke up,” he said briskly.  
  


“Yeah, I got that far,” Ron said wearily. “But why? It was you, wasn’t it? You broke up with her, didn’t you?”  
  


Harry paused. “Yes.”   
  


Ron was silent for a while. “You’ve really hurt her, you know, Harry.” Harry looked back down to his books. “She tries to hide it, but I know how much you’ve hurt her. Harry, would you stop reading! This is important!”  
  


Harry snapped his book shut loudly. “More important than this?” he said icily, nodding to the pile of books spread out in front of him.  
  


“Yes!” Ron said indignantly. “D’you remember when you told first told me about you and Ginny? D’you remember how you said you said you wouldn’t hurt her? And I said that if you did, I’d kill you?”  
  


“Yes, Ron, I remember,” Harry said edgily. “But I wasn’t expecting things to turn out like they have! You know I would never intentionally hurt her. It’s for her own good.”  
  


“For her own good?” Ron echoed in disbelief. “I can’t believe how thick you’re being, Harry. And how selfish.”  
  


“Selfish?” Harry repeated, his face darkening. “Selfish? How am I being in any way selfish? I think it’s the complete opposite; d’you think I don’t want to be with her? D’you think I actually wanted to break up with her?”   
  


“That’s not the point, Harry,” Ron said testily, shaking his head. The other people in the common room were beginning to sneak glances over in their direction.  
  


“Yes, it is the point!” Harry said, standing up. “People who are close to me get used against me, Ron! They die! You know that. You saw what happened in our second year, and that was just because she was your sister! I am trying to keep her safe!”  
  


“No, you’re not. You’re pushing people away! Like you always do!” Ron said loudly, standing up too.   
  


“For their own good!” Harry practically yelled. The seventh years were gawping shamelessly, and Neville’s eyes were round.  
  


“No, it’s not for their own good! It’s for your own good! For your peace of mind.”  
  


“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Harry snapped.   
  


“Because you’re not thinking about us! You’re not thinking about what you’re doing to us!”  
  


“I’m thinking of nothing else!”  
  


“This isn’t just about you, Harry!” Ron shouted, his fists furled.   
  


“It IS about me!” Harry yelled, his face red. “How do you think I’d feel if someone else died? You, or Hermione, or Ginny? I’m trying to protect you!”  
  


“You don’t need to protect us!” Ron shouted. “We’re not your responsibility! If we die, it’s not your fault, just as it’s not your fault that Sirius died, that Cedric died…that Dumbledore died!”  
  


There was a silence. Harry and Ron glared at each other. The Harry shook his head and sighed, his shoulders drooping.  
  


“I’m going for a walk,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later.”  
  


“Harry,” Ron began, as Harry stepped away. “Harry, look -”  
  


“No, it’s fine. I just want to be…I just need some space, okay? I’ll see you later.” He walked across the common room and out of the portrait hole, ignoring the stares he was receiving from the other students.   
  


It was a dark and miserable day, and the rain was pouring down, but Harry needed to get out. He walked down the entrance hall and across the grounds, enjoying the feel of the rain against his skin, and ignoring the ominous storm clouds that drifted heavily above. He walked in a straight line towards the place where Dumbledore’s tomb was, underneath a large oak tree. The funeral had been a week previously, and although Harry was allowed to attend, he had wished in the end that he hadn’t. An old man - supposedly a work colleague and friend of Dumbledore’s - had spoken about him, but Harry had found it strangely impersonal. There were many people there, most of whom Harry didn’t recognise, although the Minister of Magic was there, who Harry spent most of the service trying to avoid. The barman of The Hogshead was there also, and Harry noticed that he kept shooting him little looks when he thought Harry wasn’t looking. He seemed to be about to walk over to Harry when the service had finished, but Harry hurried off; he was not in the mood to talk to anyone. He trudged across the wet grass, enjoying the thought that he was the only person out there, and that no one could see him. He reached the tomb and stopped, running a hand over its smooth white surface and brushing off a few leaves from the top. It was strange knowing that Dumbledore was inside it. Harry sighed, resting his head in his hands.  


  
“Well, I’m trying, sir,” he said softly, “but it’s hard. I can’t find anything out about Horcruxes or how to destroy them. I wish you’d told me. I haven’t found anything out about what the sixth Horcrux could be…there’s no record of any items belonging to Gryffindor, apart from the sword. And if the fifth one is Nagini, I haven’t got a clue how I’m going to manage to find her without getting myself killed. And now Ron’s angry with me for breaking up with Ginny, even though I had to. He doesn’t understand. I don’t really think anyone does, anymore.” He was silent. He stood next to the tomb for a long while, oblivious to the rain soaking through his robes, and plastering his hair to his head.  
  


Harry was wrong when he thought no one could see him. Professor McGonagall had watched him leave the castle and cross the grounds, and she sighed. She knew where he was going. She watched him for a little while, and then turned back to her marking. When she had finished, half an hour later, she looked out of the window again. The boy was walking slowly back to the castle. Had he been there the whole time, in this pouring rain? She shook her head. She needed to talk to him. She crossed her room and hurried down the stairs, almost bumping into him as he came through the entrance hall, drenched through to his skin.  
  


“Potter!” she said, trying to inject a bit of surprise into her voice. She knew he wouldn’t like the fact that she had been watching him. “You’re soaked! Where have you been?”  
  


“Just outside,” he said, gesturing out of the door, where the rain was coming down in torrents.  
  


“Why were you out there in this weather? What were you doing?” she asked, wondering if he would tell her the truth.  
  


“Just…just walking,” he said casually.  
  


“Walking?” she asked crisply, annoyed that he hadn’t admitted where he was. “In this weather?”  
  


“Yeah. I was really…I was really hot,” he said unconvincingly. Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, her annoyance fading. His wet hair, as always, was tousled and stuck up at the back, and a faint smile crossed her lips as she remembered how James’s hair had done exactly the same thing. Harry looked so much like his father. Her smile faded quickly as she took in the rest of Harry’s face. His bright green eyes had lost their youthful sparkle, and where there was once mischief and warmth reflected in them, there was now only pain and sorrow. He was tall now, taller than his father had been, but James had never carried the cares Harry did, and the difference showed on Harry’s face. For all his strong features, his pale face looked fragile; as though it could crack if he as much as smiled, and the raindrops that trickled down his face reminded her of tears. Professor McGonagall sighed as she realised it had been a long time since she had seen the boy smile.  
  


“Harry,” she said softly. “Let me help you.” Harry looked at her intently, and she felt strangely uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. This was not the look of a boy who was not yet seventeen. “Harry, what has happened to you?” she said quietly.  
  


“What do you mean, Professor?” he said dully. His voice conveyed no curiosity, no warmth; it was monotone and uninterested.  
  


“You’re not the boy I used to know,” she said sadly, looking up into his face, noticing the dark shadows that streaked cruelly under his eyes. “You’re different, Harry.”   
  


Harry looked at her a little longer, and then a wry smile crossed his face, and Professor McGonagall winced at the pain masked behind it. “I‘m different?” he echoed calmly.  
  


“Yes, you are. You‘ve changed.”  
  


“Well…I’ve had to, haven’t I?” he said flatly. “Professor, if you don’t mind…I’ve got things to do now.” He stepped around her and walked down the corridor, his shoulders squared and tense. Professor McGonagall watched him go, her eyes strangely bright. She shook her head and sighed.  
  


“Oh Albus,” she whispered softly. “I wish you were here. You’d know what to do. I’m afraid…I don’t.” She stood where she was for a minute longer and then shook herself. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, tucked a tendril of hair that had escaped from her tight bun back into place, and strode down the corridor to her next class.  
  


* * *   


  
_Dear Harry,  
_

_How are you? I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the funeral - I think you were avoiding me. I know you’ll hate to hear this, but we’re all very worried about you. Molly wanted to come up to school to see you but I persuaded her that you would not thank her for it. If you do not reply to this letter, however, I may be forced to agree with her._  
I spoke to Professor McGonagall last night, Harry, and asked her how your lessons were going. She told me that you had dropped out three weeks previously, and was very surprised that you had not told me. I must say that I was rather hurt that you had not. You know you can talk to me - even if I do not approve, I will not try to stop you doing what you think is right. I am here to listen and to help, if you will let me.  
Professor McGonagall also admitted that she too is very worried about you. She said that you look very pale and tired, and she has not seen you with Ron, Hermione or Ginny lately. Have you fallen out with them, Harry? Or are you just distancing yourself from them, as I know you are prone to do? We all care for you a lot, and we are here to help. Whatever you are doing, whatever the mission that you and Dumbledore had was, we want to help you. You cannot possibly do this on your own. I am not asking you to tell me what it is. I am simply asking that you accept the help that is being offered to you. I am here to assist you, to guide you. Your father and Sirius would never forgive me if I did not, so please do me a favour and let me.  


_Remus_   
  


_*_ _* *  
_

__

  
Dear Remus,  


Thanks for your letter. I’m fine, really. REALLY. I’m getting along okay with what I’m doing - Hermione’s been helping me a lot, which of course is very useful. She’s found out loads of really helpful stuff, so I‘m doing okay there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about stopping my lessons. I just didn’t want you to worry. I’m sure you’ve got enough on your plate already.  
No, I haven’t fallen out with Ron or Hermione. We’ve just been doing different things. They’re still going to their lessons, aren’t they? So it’s not surprising that McGonagall hasn’t seen us together, is it? Honestly, I really don’t need any help. Hermione’s doing loads, I really don’t need anything else. But I’ll let you know if I need any, okay?  
I hope you’re okay, say hi to the Weasleys for me. And tell Mrs Weasley there’s no need to worry about me.  


Harry  
  
  


Harry tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, trying not to think how many lies he’d just written to Remus.  
  


“Here you go, girl. Take that to Remus.” Hedwig hooted and spread her wings, gliding smoothly out of the owlery. Harry watched her go, and then walked slowly down the stone steps. It was a bright Thursday morning, and Harry decided to go for another one of his increasingly common walks around the lake…maybe pop in and see Hagrid if he wasn’t teaching. He walked unhurriedly around the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, rubbing a hand over his scar, which had begun to twinge. It had been doing it a lot lately. He stopped and stiffened as a twig cracked from within the forest. He listened carefully, fingering his wand in his pocket, but there was only silence. He sighed and shook his head. “I’m getting as paranoid as Moody,” he muttered to himself, beginning to walk again.  
  


Not ten yards away, hidden behind the dense groups of trees, four hooded figures crept forward. Their faces were obscured by masks, and all had their wands out, pointed at the black haired boy. He stopped and listened, then muttered something to himself, before moving on again. Two of the figures crept out of the forest, stealing up behind him.  
  


“Oh, Potter!” one of them sang, and the boy whirled round, drawing his wand out from his pocket. The two Death Eaters shot stunning spells from their wands, but the boy conjured up an impressive shield, which quickly deflected the curses. The two figures shot spell after spell at him, but his shield held, and they were forced to duck their rebounding curses. Meanwhile, the other two Death Eaters had crept up in the opposite direction, and were approaching the boy, their wands outstretched. The boy had his back to them, but something must have warned him they were there, for he spun around, wand raised. He was too late. By the time he had turned, two stunning spells were shot at him. They hit him directly in the chest, and he collapsed heavily onto the grass. There was a pause.   
  


“Levitate him,” one of the Death Eaters ordered, in a harsh, sneering voice. The boy immediately floated into the air. “Now go,” the Death Eater commanded. They hurried briskly out of the grounds, the boy floating along beside them, unconscious. The Death Eater who had spoken remained where he was. His cold black eyes searched the surroundings, and when he was sure there was nobody around he removed his mask, beginning to walk after his fellow Death Eaters. He had long, black hair and a hooked nose, and a sneer spread across his face as he watched the limp figure of the boy in front of him. “You will never learn, Potter,” he said nastily, stowing his wand with a smirk.  
  
  
  
  
  


** Oh dear. No prizes for guessing who that particular Death Eater is. Poor Harry ** ** … ** ** something tells me he ** ** ’ ** ** s in for a rough ride right now... **

** PLEASE REVIEW!  **


	30. Inside the Shrieking Shack

  
  
**30  
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Inside the Shrieking Shack  


  
  
“Wake him.”  


  
“Enervate.” Harry’s eyes flickered open, and he groaned softly. He could see four shadowy figures leaning over him. For a few moments he lay there, his mind too groggy to register what had happened. After a few seconds, however, he stiffened, and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He was in a large and dusty room. In one corner was a huge four poster bed, with long, cobwebby velvet hangings. The wallpaper was peeling and there were long scratch marks on the wooden floor. Harry had been here before, three years ago. He was in the Shrieking Shack.   


  
“Nice of you to join us, Potter.” Harry looked up into the grinning face of the Death Eater Rookwood. On either side of him stood Nott and Rodolphus Lestrange. Both were leering down at him, their faces menacingly shadowed by their hoods. Harry said nothing, but glared up at him. He tried to subtly feel for his wand in his pocket, but realised his hands were tied. “Oh no, Potter. We weren’t going to take any chances,” said Rookwood, spinning Harry’s wand between his fingers. “We heard what you did to Goyle. Rather remarkable, actually, for one so young.”  
  


“I’d call it more of a lucky fluke,” a familiar voice sneered from the shadows. Severus Snape stepped up from behind the other Death Eaters and smirked down at him. “Dear dear, Potter. It seems you’ve landed yourself in trouble…again.”  
  


“You!” Harry snarled, glowering up at him and feeling hatred pounding through his veins.  
  


“Very perceptive, is he not?” said Snape idly.  
  


“Severus was just telling us about your history with this little place. Apparently, this is where you first met your dear godfather Sirius. What a pity he’s not here today, hmm?” Rookwood grinned horribly.  
  


“You shut up!” Harry spat, struggling in vain against his bonds.  
  


“Oh dear. It seems that Dumbledore never managed to teach you any manners, Potter. I think I’ll have to remedy that. Crucio!”   
  


Harry yelled as his body began to spasm in agony, feeling white hot pain shooting through his limbs. It seemed to go on forever, but just as black spots began to invade his eyes, it lifted. He lay there on the floor, panting uncontrollably, his eyes watering with pain. “Oh dear…don’t cry, Harry Potter.”  
  


“I’m not crying!” Harry snarled at Rookwood, forcing himself back up, though his body screamed in protest. Rookwood raised an eyebrow.  
  


“The Dark Lord was right…the boy has got courage.”  
  


“There’s a difference between courage and arrogance, Rookwood,” Snape spat. “In my experience, the boy has only the latter.” He looked down at Harry, his lip curling. Harry felt a wave of red hot hatred go through him. This man had murdered Dumbledore. He felt a kind of current run through him, and he concentrated hard on the ropes binding his wrists together. With a flicker of triumph he felt them loosen, and slipped his hands free. He looked up into the cold, black eyes in front of him, and then launched himself at him. Snape stepped back sharply, his face surprised. Rookwood, Nott and Lestrange wrestled him back to the ground, Harry struggling valiantly.  
  


“You bastard!” he yelled at Snape. “You killed him!”  
  


“Yes, Potter. I seem to remember you saying that to me last time we met. Perhaps it’s time you changed your tune…it‘s getting rather old.”  
  


“I thought he was bound,” Lestrange muttered.  
  


“He was,” Snape snapped. “Re-bind him tighter. Potter is often lucky with wandless magic.”   
  


“Poor, poor Dumbledore,” Nott said with a grin. “All he ever did was try and save you. But what’s this? Only a few weeks after his death, little Harry Potter is captured by Death Eaters? He must be turning in his grave, poor man. Well, the Dark Lord always said Dumbledore‘s affection for you would be the end of him, the fool.”  
  


“Dumbledore was ten times the wizard Voldemort is!” Harry snarled. All four Death Eaters flinched.  
  


“Don’t,” Snape hissed, thrusting his wand against Harry’s throat, “say his name!”   
  


“Why not?” Harry snapped. “I’m not scared of him…unlike you. You’re his servant and you can’t even say his name. You‘re pathetic!”   
  


Snape stabbed his wand harder into Harry’s neck. “Your failure to fear the Dark Lord has always been your greatest weakness, Potter,” he said coldly.   
  


“Take it back, Potter,” Nott said, a nasty smile creeping across his face. “Pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, and we will spare you more pain.” Harry threw back his head and laughed derisively, although his head was throbbing agonisingly. “No? Then declare that the Dark Lord is the greatest wizard in the world.”  
  


“No!” Harry snarled. “Because he’s not. He’s an evil, pathetic murderer…nothing more.”   
  


Lestrange’s eyes bulged out of his face in shock and anger. “Crucio!” he hissed.   
  


Once again Harry felt flood after flood of unbearable agony sweep over him, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming; he would not give them the satisfaction. The curse lifted, and Harry immediately pulled himself up again. He would not let them win. He could feel blood in his mouth, and spat it viciously onto the floor.  
  


“Feel like saying it now, Potter?” Lestrange said silkily. Harry looked up at him.   
  


“No,” Harry replied. “And you can carry on torturing me, but I’m never going to say it.”  
  


“Really? We’ll see about that,” Lestrange said, raising his wand again. Snape hit it back down.  
  


“No, Rodolphus. The boy does not lie. His is like his father…stubborn, conceited and insufferably arrogant. Undoubtedly, he will meet the same end, and very soon. But he will not say it.”   
  


Lestrange looked sulky. “Can’t I do it anyway?”  
  


“No,” Snape said silkily. “You remember what the Dark Lord said. He wants the boy alive and well…not half dead. He won’t last if you do it again; look at him,” he said scornfully, indicating Harry, who was pale and shaking. “But I think I have an even better way to…er…deal with him. You three go back to the Dark Lord now. Tell him that Potter has been caught and I will bring him back shortly. I just want a little bit of…enjoyment with him, after the six years I have been forced to spend in his intolerable company.” Rookwood looked doubtful, but Nott and Lestrange nodded at once, and began to walk towards the door. Snape looked to be their leader. After a stern glance from Snape, however, Rookwood too left the room. The door clicked gently shut behind him, and their footsteps echoed down the stairs. Snape and Harry glared at each other.  


  
“You‘re nauseating,” Harry said, feeling hatred such as he had never felt. “This isn’t over. You won’t get away with this. I’ll make sure of it.” Snape’s lip curled again as he looked pointedly down at Harry’s firmly tied wrists. He paused for a second, then walked out of the door, coming back in after a few moments.  
  


“Now listen to me, Potter” he said urgently. “It won’t be long before the Dark Lord sends the others back - he will not be pleased that I have kept you here. We do not have much time, so you need to listen to me very carefully.”  
  


“And why would I want to do that, Snape?” Harry growled.  
  


“Because, Potter,” Snape spat, “believe it or not, I am on your side.” There was a long silence, and then Harry began to laugh.  
  


“Do you really expect me to believe that? I saw you kill him! I was there, remember!”  
  


“Yes, I remember perfectly, Potter. I saw you before the charm wore off. I saw you when you were disillusioned. Your Occlumency is so poor that I could feel your fear as soon as I arrived.”   
  


Harry was silent, slightly thrown. “So? You saw me, big deal. What does that prove? You still killed him.”  
  


“Because he asked me to, Potter,” Snape snarled.  
  


“Oh really?” Harry said sarcastically. “I don’t seem to remember that.”  
  


“Because we arranged it before, you fool!”  
  


“Why?” Harry barked. “Why would he ask you to do that?”  
  


“Because,” Snape said slowly, “for reasons unfathomable to myself, his main concern has always been keeping his students, particularly you, safe. Draco Malfoy was set the task of killing Dumbledore. As you no doubt saw, he was hesitant to do it. Had Dumbledore not died that night, the Dark Lord would have killed Draco. But Dumbledore also did not want Draco to be a killer. He knew there would be no way out for him after that. The Headmaster also knew that if he had not died that night, the Dark Lord would not rest until half the school was dead. He made me promise, a few months previously, that if it came to it, if other people’s lives were in danger - principally yours - that I would kill him, in front of the other Death Eaters.” He paused, and Harry stared at him in disbelief. He was about to speak when Snape spoke again. “He knew how important it was for me to stay the Dark Lord’s favourite. I was losing favour - the Dark Lord was beginning to suspect that my loyalties did, after all, lie with Dumbledore. He set Draco that mission to test me; he knew Draco would not be able to complete it. He was waiting to see if I would let Dumbledore escape, unharmed…or if I would finish the task myself.”  
  


“Why?” Harry demanded. “Why was it so important that you remain in Voldemort’s favour?”  
  


Snape sneered. “Use what little brain you have, Potter. Who do you think was passing information to Dumbledore about the Horcruxes? Who do you think has the slightest chance in finding out what they are, and then locating them?”   
  


Harry blinked. “You know…you know about the Horcruxes?” he said quietly.  
  


“Of course I know, you fool. I was the one who informed Dumbledore where the ring was hidden. I am the one who has just destroyed another. And I am the only one who can possibly help you on your miserable little mission.”  
  


“But…but he said no one knew…”  
  


“Of course he told you that! What do you think you would have said if he’d told you that I knew?”  
  


Harry shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t care if you know about the Horcruxes. I saw your face. I saw your face when you killed him. I saw that look of hatred…of disgust…”  
  


“Of course you saw hatred and disgust!” Snape hissed impatiently, his face twisted. “But it wasn’t directed at Dumbledore! It was directed at myself! Do you think I wanted to do it? Do you think I enjoyed it? Killing the one man who had always trusted me…always believed in me…given me a job and shelter when no one else would? Don’t you think I would hate myself for that? Be disgusted at what I was doing?”  
  


“I…but…he was begging…” Harry said weakly. “He said your name….he was pleading…”  
  


“Yes, Potter. Pleading for me to do it. Did you not notice the pause between my confronting Dumbledore, and actually killing him? We are both highly skilled Occlumens and Legilimens…he was talking to me, in my mind. Telling me I had to do it.” He paused, breathing rather heavily. Harry was silent, remembering the long look that had passed between Snape and Dumbledore before Snape had uttered the curse. He remembered how Dumbledore’s voice had echoed inside his own head, telling him to go back.  
  


“Do you not think, Potter,” Snape said icily, “that if Dumbledore wanted to escape, he would have done? Do you not think that his phoenix, so ready to save his life at the Ministry, would have done the same here, if Dumbledore had not wanted this to happen?”   
  


Harry shook his head numbly. “I can’t believe it…” he muttered. “I can’t…”  
  


“Well, you must,” Snape said coldly. He raised his wand and vanished Harry’s bonds. “Here’s your wand,” he said, shoving it into Harry’s hand. “You need to trust me now.”  
  


“Why are you helping me?” Harry said flatly, gripping his wand tight in his hand. “Okay, you were loyal to Dumbledore…but he’s dead now. So why are you still helping me?”  


  
“Because I promised Dumbledore, why else?” Snape snapped.  
  


“But we both know you want me dead,” Harry continued. “Why don’t you just go back to Voldemort now? You’re not going to lose out.”  
  


Snape stared at him. “You really are thicker than I thought. If I wanted you dead, Potter, you would be dead. For some strange reason, it seems that you are the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord. I do not want to spend the rest of my life behind a mask, so therefore it seems that I am forced to help you. There is also the small matter that I gave my word to Dumbledore.”  
  


“Oh, and your word means a lot, does it Snape?” Harry said scathingly.  
  


“Yes,” Snape said, his eyes glittering strangely. “It does.” He paused, then moved towards the door. “Come on, we need to go now. They will be here soon.”  
  


Harry stayed where he was. “I can’t believe you,” he said slowly. “After all this time, I can’t believe you’re on our side. You’re the reason my parents are dead!” he said accusingly. Snape was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, slowly, as if every word caused him great pain.  
  


“Yes, I am. And do you not think that that is another reason why I am so keen to help you? Do you not think that is another reason why I have always tried to save your miserable skin?”  
  


“Why?” Harry said blankly. “You already saved my life in the first year. What’s it to you that my parents are dead? You hated my dad.”  
  


“Yes, I hated him,” Snape said slowly. “But I did not hate your mother.”  
  


“My mother?” Harry repeated. “What…you…”  
  


“Your mother was…not like your father,” Snape said with difficulty. “I did not want her dead.”  
  


“But…you didn’t like her! You called her a Mudblood! I saw, in your memory last year!”  
  


“Of course I did!” Snape snapped. “I was fifteen and had just been humiliated by your father! I was angry and disgraced. And anyway, it wasn’t until my sixth year that I got to know her properly.”  
  


“Why?”  
  


“Potions, Potter. Your mother - unlike yourself - was very gifted at Potions. We had lessons together for two years, and we developed…a friendship.”  
  


“You were friends with my mum?” Harry said in disbelief. “But…why do you hate me so much then? I mean, from the very beginning, before you even knew me…you hated me.”  
  


“Yes, I hated you,” Snape hissed. “Do you have any idea what it was like, seeing you walk into the Great Hall to be sorted, a mini version of your father? Seeing a vision of the man who had made my life a misery, a living hell? But then…then it got worse. When I first saw you properly, up close, in your first Potions lesson…you looked at me. And then how could I not hate you?”   
  


Harry stared. “What? I don’t -”  
  


“You looked at me, and _I saw Lily’s eyes staring out at me from James Potter’s face_!” Snape said, his expression wild. “How could I not hate you? You were a living reminder of everything I had loved, everything I had lost!”  
  


“You loved her?” Harry said incredulously. “But…you…”  
  


“When I realised how the Dark Lord had interpreted the prophecy, I begged for her life. I knew I could not save you, but I begged for Lily’s life. The Dark Lord was amused, and agreed to let her live. I think he would have, had she not stood in the way.”  
  


Harry closed his eyes, remembering the high voice that plagued his nightmares. _“Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside!”_  
  


“So you see, Potter? You see why I have to help you? It’s not for you…it’s not even for Dumbledore. It’s for your mother. She was there for me when no one else was…she died for you…and I won’t let her death be in vain.”  
  


Harry stared blankly at Snape, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. He opened his mouth, and then shut it.  
  


“Is that why…is that why Dumbledore always trusted you? Because he knew about that? About my mum?”  
  


“It is,” Snape said curtly. “And you are not to repeat this to anyone, do you understand, Potter?”  
  


“Well, it’s hardly something I’d want to brag about, is it?” Harry said, his mind returning.   


  
Snape sneered. “Now, unless you want to be caught, I’d suggest we leave…now.” Turning on his heel he walked smartly out of the room. Harry followed after a moment, his head reeling.  
  
  


 

** This was really fun to write…I do love the way Harry and Snape interact - they have great chemistry! Writing conversations between Harry and Dumbledore and Harry and Snape has always been my favourite. So what did you think?? Did you expect this, or did it come as a surprise? Please REVIEW! **

 

** **

  
  
 


	31. The Last Letter

**31**

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The Last Letter

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Snape strode quickly out of the Shrieking Shack, Harry following rather more cautiously. They stepped out into the sunshine and Harry flinched slightly, half expecting to find a hoard of Death Eaters waiting for him in Hogsmeade. Snape noticed, and turned to him.

“I see you do still do not trust me, Potter.”

“Yeah, well…can you really expect me to?” Harry replied defensively. “After everything you’ve done?”

“After everything I’ve done?” Snape repeated, looking half amused and half riled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Harry said hotly. “After the way you’ve treated me, after the way you’ve treated…other people,” he said, thinking of Sirius. Snape must have been thinking the same thing, for he smirked.

“I treat people the way they deserve to be treated, Potter. I treat them the way they treat me.” They glowered at each other. “Dumbledore told me that he was going to try to inform you in some way about what might have to happen. Did he not say anything?”

“No,” Harry said coolly.

“Did he not leave you a letter, a note?”

“No,” Harry said, but as soon as he had spoken the words he remembered. “Well…actually…maybe. He wrote me a letter just before Christmas, and there was another letter in there, but he had charmed it so I couldn’t read it until he wanted me to. He said that would be when he had…gone.”

“Well then, Potter,” Snape said disdainfully, “perhaps you ought to have a read.”

“Fine,” Harry said stiffly. “What about you? Where are you going to go? Are you going back to Voldemort now?”

“I told you not to say his name!” Snape hissed, and Harry shrugged. “No, Potter, I am not returning to the Dark Lord. I am afraid I have compromised my position.”

“Why? Couldn’t you just say I escaped, and you couldn’t stop me?”

“The Dark Lord would know what you would never be able to do that,” Snape sneered, and Harry glared at him. “But it is not just that. It is only a matter of time before he discovers that I have destroyed his snake, Nagini.”

“You have?” Harry said eagerly. “She was definitely a Horcrux then? And she’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“So…so now there’s only one left! Apart from the one in Voldemort himself, of course,” he added. Snape flinched at his use of Voldemort’s name, but this time said nothing. “D’you know what the sixth one is, then? Dumbledore thought it was something that belonged to Gryffindor, but I haven’t found anything except that sword, and Dumbledore didn’t think that was one.”

“No, it is not.”

“So d’you know what it is then?” Harry said, rather impatiently. Snape stopped. 

“No, I do not know. I think Professor Dumbledore had suspicions about what he thought it was, but he never told me them. However…” he tailed off. “Listen, Potter. I cannot go any further now. If someone sees me, the Ministry will arrive and arrest me. I cannot be seen, and nor can anyone know I am here. That means you do not tell Mr Weasley or Miss Granger,” he said unpleasantly.

“Fine,” Harry replied. “Where are you going to be, then?”

“That is not your concern, Potter,” Snape said silkily.

“Fine!” Harry said irritably. “Well, how are you going to help me then? If I don’t know where you are, I mean.”

“I will inform you of when I wish to speak with you,” Snape said idly. “I will need to see the Horcruxes, Potter.”

“They must still be in Dumbledore’s office,” Harry said slowly. “I dunno how I’m going to get hold of them.”

“They will be in a box with your name on it,” Snape said casually. “I suggest that you inform Professor McGonagall that you think Professor Dumbledore left you something. I am sure she will give it to you. But Potter…do not open the box.”

“Why?” Harry asked suspiciously. 

Snape glared at him. “Because I’ve just asked you not to, that’s why,” he snapped. 

“You’re not my teacher anymore,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Do you want my help or do you not, Potter?” Snape said furiously.

“No, I don’t want it,” Harry said slowly. 

“But you need it,” Snape replied. Harry said nothing, knowing it was true.

“Fine,” he said after a while. “I won’t open the bloody box. Anything else?”

“Yes, there is. I will need to borrow your invisibility cloak.”

Harry stared. “My cloak? Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?“ Snape said brusquely. “Yes, Potter, your cloak. When I am in these grounds I cannot afford to be seen. You know that as well as I do.”

“It was my dad’s cloak,” Harry said protectively.

“I am aware of that, Potter,” Snape said contemptuously. “I seem to recall many occasions where your father thought it was amusing to steal up on people whilst wearing it.”

“Well…you’d better not mess it up. And I want it back afterwards,” Harry said resolutely.

“Trust me, I will not take delight in holding on to any item of your father’s,” Snape said viciously. “I will be most keen to return it to you.”

Harry glared at him. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want you making any comments about my dad. Or Sirius,” he added.

“I do not think you are in a position to make bargains, Potter,” Snape said lightly. “Now fetch me the cloak.”

“Please,” Harry said petulantly. Snape merely glared at him. “Fine. Stay there.” He turned and ran back to the castle, half hoping that Snape would be spotted and carted off to Azkaban. 

“Harry! Where have you been?” Hermione exclaimed as he clambered through the portrait hole. She looked at him more closely. “You look awful…what’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, trying to sound airy. “I just went for a walk.”

“Another walk?” Hermione said doubtfully, glancing at Ron beside her, who shrugged. 

“Yep,” Harry replied, flashing her a quick smile in the hope that it would pacify her. “Walking is good you, Hermione.”

“I know that, but…Harry, where are you going?” she called after him, as he ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. He didn’t answer, but came down again a minute later, holding his hands on his stomach. “Harry?”

“I’ve got a really bad stomach ache,” Harry said quickly, tightening his hands over his tummy. “I’m just…I’m just going to see Madam Pomfrey.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Hermione asked, looking unconvinced,

“No! No, I’m fine. See you both in a bit.” He hurried out again and left Hermione staring after him, her arms folded and a slight frown on her face.

 

“Here,” Harry said roughly, thrusting the cloak at Snape. Snape took it unenthusiastically, as though he did not want to touch anything that had belonged to James Potter. 

“Remember what I said, Potter,” Snape said quietly. “Not a word to anyone, even if you feel they can be trusted.”

“I said alright.”

“And don’t forget to collect the Horcruxes as soon as possible, preferably today. I do not know when I will be able to come, but it may be in a couple of days, in which case you will need to have them.”

“Alright.”

“Good.” He threw the cloak over him unceremoniously and disappeared. “And don’t open the box, Potter,” his voice said from a few feet away.

“I said I wouldn’t!” Harry said hotly. He waited to see whether Snape said anything else, but when he did not, he turned and walked slowly back to the castle.

Harry rummaged through his trunk until he found what he was looking for; Dumbledore’s letter. He pulled the envelope out and sat on his bed. The bedrooms were deserted, as it was still early, and Harry had fobbed Ron off by claiming that he was going to lie down, as his stomach still hurt. He pulled out the blank piece of parchment, except it was blank no longer; Dumbledore’s loopy writing spread out over it. Holding his breath, Harry settled back against his pillow and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this, I have died. I told you in my first letter that you will not be able to read this second one until the time is right, and it looks like that time has come. First of all, I do not want you to linger over my death. I am an old man, Harry. Despite my youthful and handsome appearance, I am actually far older than you think. I have had a long and happy life, and each day has been lived to the full. It was my time, and I accept that readily. Whatever the circumstances, Harry, do not blame yourself. Even if I died saving you, it is not your fault. It was my choice, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I could never have lived with myself if something happened to you. With great evil comes great sacrifice, Harry. You should remember that.  
_

_The second thing I have to tell you is this: you MUST trust Severus Snape. Whatever you think of him, whatever it appears he has done…he is on our side. By now I’m sure I would have told you about the Horcruxes. If I have not, ask Professor Snape. He is the only person, other than myself and Voldemort, who knows about this, and he is the only one who will be able to help you when I am gone. Remember, Harry, that Voldemort thinks Professor Snape is on his side. Undoubtedly there will be times when Severus will be forced to show his ‘loyalty’. Listen to him, and trust him. Please.  
_

_Thirdly, I am sure that you have questions unanswered right now, advice you need. If you go to the my office (or Professor McGonagall’s office, as it would presumably be now) you will find a large silver cupboard in the far left corner. Open it. Professor McGonagall will have the key - if you show her this letter I am sure she will give it to you, as well as giving you the privacy you will need. Inside the cupboard is something you are already acquainted with - the Mirror of Erised. Tap the mirror with your wand, concentrating very hard on an image of myself. I think then, hopefully, you will gain some much needed answers. But Harry, this event can only happen once, therefore you must make sure that the answers you need are imperative. As important as it may seem, wanting to know whether I preferred lemon drops or cockroach clusters is not perhaps the best reason to visit the mirror. Incidentally, I prefer lemon drops - I would have thought you knew that.  
_

_The final thing I want to say is perhaps the most important; to me, at least. I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you, Harry. I have watched you more closely than you can ever imagine. Since the moment I first saw you, when Hagrid collected you from the ruins of Godric’s Hollow and took you to your aunt’s house, I swore I would do everything I could to protect you. I knew then, of course, of the prophecy that had been made, and I knew how special you were. I realised in your first year, after you saved the Philosopher’s stone, truly how special you really were. I watched as you fought Basilisks, saved Sirius from Dementors, escaped dragons and duelled with Voldemort, and I am unspeakably proud of the man you have become. A word of advice though, Harry: do not push away those who love you. You remember the most significant difference between you and Voldemort - that you can love, and he cannot. Do not become the same as him. You will need your friends, and you will need the love you have for them. Keep your friends close, Harry.  
_

_I will see you again one day. Know that. But I hope it will not be for a long, long time, when you have a silver beard that will rival even my own. Good luck, Harry, and goodbye - for now.  
_

_Yours most fondly,  
_

_Albus Dumbledore_

__

 

__To his intense annoyance, Harry found tears spring into his eyes as he read, and blinked them away hurriedly. He sat where he was for a while, reading and rereading the letter. What was all that about the Mirror of Erised? What would happen when he tapped the mirror? Harry half rose from his bed, but then sank down again with a frown. He would wait until he had met up with Snape again. Perhaps Snape would have garnered more information about the Horcruxes by then. If he only had one opportunity with this, he could not afford to waste it; he would only go to the Mirror when all else had failed. He stood up again, stowing the letter away safely back in his trunk. He would try and get the Horcruxes from McGonagall.

“Potter,” Professor McGonagall said in surprise when she opened her office door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, slightly annoyed that she thought something must be wrong. “I was just…er…well, I think Professor Dumbledore may have left something for me,” he said quickly.

Professor McGonagall frowned. “Left something for you? What do you mean, Potter?”

“Er...well….I think there were a few things he wanted me to have. Some things that he knew I would…need. I think…I think he said something about putting them in a box. A box with my name on?”

Professor McGonagall frowned again. “I don’t remember seeing any box, Potter, but I’ll have another look.” She opened a large ornate cupboard and searched fruitlessly. “There’s no box here, Potter.”

“Why don’t you try in his desk? I mean, in your desk.”

Professor McGonagall gave him an odd look, but opened the drawers. “Ah. I think you may have been referring to this, Potter,” she said, pulling out a hefty wooden box from the bottom drawer. Sure enough, a label was on the top, with the words ‘For Harry Potter’ written in Dumbledore’s handwriting. Harry took it eagerly, glad he had thought to look in the desk. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in my asking what is in there, is there?” McGonagall asked wryly.

“Er…no. Sorry Professor,” Harry said hastily, but to his relief Professor McGonagall did not press the matter.

“I thought as much. Is there anything else you wanted, Potter?”

“No, Professor. Thanks a lot,” Harry said genuinely. Professor McGonagall sniffed.


	32. Fractures

**32**

**Fractures**

 

Harry sat edgily on his seat, trying to appear engaged in Ron and Seamus’s chess match. In reality, his mind was elsewhere. Against his will, he often found himself thinking of Snape - what he was doing, where he was, how he could help… It had been three days since Snape had revealed to Harry that he truly was on their side, yet Harry had heard nothing from him. He was beginning to think that he had perhaps imagined it; it wouldn’t surprise him anymore. Hermione kept glancing at him surreptitiously when she thought he wasn’t looking, and he knew she was aware that something was up. Despite Dumbledore’s advice that he should keep his friends close, Harry could not find it in him to tell them what had happened yet. He thought it may have something to do with his antagonism towards Snape; admitting to them that Snape was on their side meant that he had been wrong, and that Snape had always been - to an extent - good. Harry couldn’t get his own head around that fact, let alone admit it to the rest. He did consider telling Lupin, but decided that it could wait until another time. Dumbledore had been, after all, very clear about not telling too many people about the Horcruxes, and Harry could not see a way to mention Snape without mentioning the Horcruxes.

 

“Alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, in a voice that was too casual to be genuine. “You look very faraway. Anything on your mind?”

 

“No,” Harry replied, his voice also exceedingly nonchalant. “Just watching the chess.” Hermione nodded at him, although Harry knew she was by no means convinced.

 

‘Potter…get down here now.’

 

“What?” Harry said in astonishment, twisting around in his seat. That was Snape’s voice…but he was nowhere to be seen.

 

‘Come outside, you fool.’

 

“Oh,” Harry gasped, realisation dawning. Snape was a Legilimens…he was doing what Dumbledore had done the night he had died - speaking to Harry from inside his head.

 

“Harry?” Hermione asked with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing…I just…I mean…I just remembered I have to do something.” He jumped up from his seat and ran up to the dormitories. He snatched up the box with the Horcruxes in and walked swiftly out of the common room.

 

“He’s hiding something,” Hermione said to Ron, still frowning.

 

Ron glanced up from the chess board. “Yeah, he probably is,” he agreed tonelessly. “But then again, when is he not?”

 

Harry hurried down the stairs and turned the corner quickly, not looking where he was going.

 

“Ouch!” said a girl’s voice, as Harry walked straight into her.

 

“Ginny!” Harry said, feeling his cheeks flush. “Sorry…I wasn’t…I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

 

“That much is obvious,” Ginny said, rubbing her the top of her head, which had just smacked into Harry’s chin. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You?” Harry asked awkwardly.

 

“Good,” Ginny said with a nod. “So where are you off to in such a hurry, then?”

 

“Er…” Harry began in flustered voice; he’d never been any good at lying to Ginny. “Just…er…I was…”

 

Ginny smiled. “It’s okay, Harry,” she said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Harry stared at her, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss her. But he couldn’t. Ginny smiled again and turned to leave. Harry impulsively shot out an arm and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. They stared at each other for a few moments, their faces inches apart.

 

“Ginny…” Harry began, not sure what he was going to say. “Ginny…” She waited, but when he did not seem to be able to finish she gave a questioning shrug.

 

“What, Harry?” she asked quietly.

 

“Ginny, I…”

 

‘Hurry up, Potter - I haven’t got all day.”

 

Harry flinched as Snape’s voice invaded his mind again. “I have to go, Gin,” he said, turning on his heel and walking quickly away. Ginny watched him go, trying to shake away the awful feeling that she had lost him forever.    

 

“About time, Potter,” Snape sneered, throwing off the invisibly cloak as Harry approached the Whomping Willow. “Your love life is of little importance right now - I suggest you get your priorities sorted.” Harry glared at him, annoyed that Snape somehow knew what had gone on. “I’ve told you before that you are appalling at hiding your emotions. That was one of reasons you were such a poor Occlumens.”

 

“Well, I was alright when I had a good teacher, wasn’t I Snape?” Harry said tersely.

 

Snape ignored that comment. “Never mind, Potter. I expect Miss Weasley will wait for you. If you survive, that is,” he said pointedly.

 

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Harry snapped. 

 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I am being realistic, Potter. It is not my job to inflate an already overblown ego. I daresay you have enough arrogance for us both.”

 

“I’m not my father!” Harry bristled, suddenly angry.

 

“I am perfectly aware of who you are, Potter,” Snape said coldly.

 

“I don’t think you are!” Harry said angrily. “Just because I look like him, doesn’t mean I’m the same person! For your information, nobody else apart from you has ever called me arrogant - not one! Because I’m not! My dad may have been arrogant, but that doesn’t mean I have to be, okay? Or are you still too blinded by your hate to see that?”

 

Snape paused. “You admit your father was arrogant then, Potter?” he asked calculatingly.

 

Harry hesitated for a second. “Yes, he was,” he said tightly. “Or at least he was when he was fifteen. I saw your memory…I saw what he did to you. And I would never do that to someone, unprovoked…and I think you know I wouldn’t. But that does not mean,” he continued hotly, “that my dad wasn’t a good person. It means he was a normal teenage boy who had faults. Even you, Severus, must have had some. You have no right to constantly insult him and belittle his memory. He was a better man than you’ll ever be.” There was a long silence.

 

“Did you bring the Horcruxes?” Snape asked abruptly. Harry frowned at that change in topic.

 

“Yeah. They’re in the box,” he said, gesturing behind him. “Are we going back inside the Shack?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Isn’t that a bit risky? That’s where they left us.”

 

“They will not expect me to have lingered, Potter. They will not think of rechecking this place.” Snape conjured up a long wooden stick and prodded the knot at the bottom of the tree. At once it was still, and he immediately slid down the hole. Harry paused for a moment, and then jumped down too. Snape was already climbing briskly up the stairs when Harry landed, and he scrambled up and followed him.

 

“Hand me the box,” Snape ordered as soon as Harry stepped into the room with the bed in it. Harry did so. Snape conjured up two chairs, and sat down stiffly, the box tightly clasped in his arms. He extracted first the ring, then the locket and then the cup, and placed them gently on the floor. “Can you spot any connection between them, Potter?”

 

“Well,” Harry began slowly, “they all represent a Hogwarts House, don’t they? They all belonged to one of the founders. The ring was Ravenclaw’s, the locket was Slytherin’s and the cup was Hufflepuff’s. Dumbledore said he thought the last one must be something of Gryffindor’s.”

 

“My thoughts, too,” Snape said, quietly, examining the ring closely. “But there is no possession around today, other than the sword, that belonged to Gryffindor.”

 

“So what d’you think it can be then?”

 

Snape paused. “Am I right in thinking that you were born in Godric’s Hollow, Potter?”

 

Harry looked up sharply. “Yeah,” he said guardedly. “Why?”

 

Snape sighed. “Come on, Potter. What was Gryffindor’s first name?”

 

Harry blinked. “Godric Gryffindor,” he muttered. “So…so what does that mean?”

 

“It is my belief,” Snape said carefully, “that the Potters were the last descendants of Godric Gryffindor. Godric’s Hollow has been inhabited by the Potter family for generations, which leads me to think that the Dark Lord may have considered the house as one of Gryffindor’s remaining possessions, and therefore he may have used the house - or part of it at least - as one of his Horcruxes.”

 

Harry stared at Snape. “So does that mean…does that mean that I’m Gryffindor’s heir?” he asked softly.

 

Snape exhaled noisily. “If you want to dramatise things, Potter, as you are often prone to do, then yes. If my theory is correct - and it may not be - it would mean that you are indeed Gryffindor’s heir.”

 

“Is there a way to find out?” Harry asked with a frown. “Because…I mean, if I’m not, then it’s unlikely that the house is, isn’t it?”

 

“When the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor, Potter, was it an immediate choice?” 

 

“Er…no,” Harry said, his heart sinking. “It did consider putting me in…in another House.”

 

“Really?” Snape said, looking at Harry fixedly. “And what House would that be?”

 

“Slytherin,” Harry muttered, looking at the floor.

 

“Really? How…interesting,” Snape said slowly. “Gryffindor’s heir…a candidate for Slytherin.”

 

“Well, it didn’t put me there in the end, did it?” Harry said hastily. “It put me in Gryffindor. And,” he added, “I pulled Gryffindor’s sword from out of the Sorting Hat when I was fighting the Basilisk. Dumbledore said only a true Gryffindor could have done that.”

 

Snape looked slightly impressed, although he quickly arranged his features into a more impassive look. “Really? Well, if you are indeed the heir of Gryffindor, there might well be another Horcrux at Godric’s Hollow.”

 

“But it’s not there anymore,” Harry said, his heart dropping. “It was destroyed. When Hagrid came to pick me up after Voldemort had disappeared, he said it was all rubble.”

 

Snape did not look too perturbed. “A Horcrux cannot be destroyed that easily, Potter,” he said, slightly condescendingly. “It has to be removed, and it differs for each Horcrux. Nagini was the easiest, as she was alive; killing her meant the Horcrux was destroyed. But it is not so easy for inanimate objects.”

 

“So…are we going to go there, then?” Harry asked, his heart beating rather quickly at the thought of returning to the place he had lived as a baby - the place his parents had lived.

 

“I am, but you are not, Potter,” Snape said, holding up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to argue. “It is not safe. There will undoubtedly be some form of fortification around Godric’s Hollow if there is indeed a Horcrux there. It is not worth you getting yourself killed over. That can wait until the final one.” 

 

Harry glared at Snape, before snatching up the ring himself. It had a large, black stone in the middle, with a long, jagged crack running through the heart of it. It was dusty and looked well worn. He put it down, picking up the cup. It was a bright, shining gold, with amber hued stones studded along at interval. There was a zigzagging fracture along the rim. Harry frowned slightly. He picked up the locket. It was very heavy, and had a large, elaborate ’S’ engraved on the front, gleaming in what looked like emeralds. He turned it over. On the smooth golden surface was a thin, jagged break.

 

“They’ve all got cracks in,” he mused. “It that significant?”

 

Snape’s head jerked up from a small book he was making notes in. “I did not give you permission to look at them!” he hissed angrily. He snatched the three items away and threw them hurriedly back into the box.

 

“What’s the big deal?” Harry asked, annoyed.

 

“That is not your concern,” Snape said edgily.  He had gone surprisingly pale. “And to answer your question, these items are thousands of years old, Potter. It is expected that they would not be in pristine condition, that they may be cracked.”

 

“Oh. Yeah,” Harry said, feeling rather embarrassed, although he got the distinct impression that Snape was hiding something. Snape’s eyes lingered over the Horcruxes in the box. He looked at Harry, as if seeing him for the first time.

 

“Potter,” he said, his face somewhat troubled. “I suggest you go now. It does not do to linger here, however safe it may seem. I shall be in touch with you.”

 

“Is there anything I can do?” Harry asked, standing up.

 

“Not really,” Snape said with a frown. “You could perhaps try and do a bit of research as to whether you really are a descendant of Godric Gryffindor, although I daresay that will prove rather problematic. Am I correct in thinking that you have no other family? There are no other Potters, aside from yourself, alive today?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm. Pity,” Snape said, and Harry glared at him.         

 

The next few days seemed to drag on forever. Harry was waiting on tenterhooks for any news from Snape, but none came. Had something happened? Had Snape been ambushed? Was he hurt? Was he dead? How was Harry meant to know? He was itching to tell someone, but Snape’s warning rang over and over in his head - tell no one. He could find no information about being the heir of Gryffindor - he thought Remus might know something, but didn’t know how he could ask without arousing his suspicion. After another three days, however, Snape made contact again.

 

‘Come to the Shrieking Shack, Potter.’

 

Harry stood up, trying to look as though he wasn’t in any hurry. He walked leisurely across the common room.

 

“Going for another walk, are we?” Ron asked shrewdly.

 

“Er…yeah,” Harry said with a nod. Ron said nothing, but turned back to the essay he was writing. Harry knew Ron and Hermione were annoyed that he was hiding something - something they guessed was very important - but he could not tell them just yet. He hurried through the grounds and over to the Whomping Willow, disabling the tree’s movements by prodding the knot at the bottom of the trunk with the stick Snape had left there and running up the stairs.

 

“Well?” he asked eagerly as he entered the bedroom. “Did you find anything?”

 

Snape looked up from where he was sitting. “No,” he said simply.

 

“No?” Harry repeated, his heart sinking. “Nothing?”

 

“Nothing. You were right - it is in ruins.”

 

“It’s still there?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

 

“Yes,” Snape said with a nod. “The house was charmed so that is invisible to muggles. When they walk past they see nothing but an empty field. That is probably the reason why it has not been cleared away, which is handy for us. However, there was nothing there.”

 

“Nothing…nothing at all?” Harry said quietly.

 

“Well…” Snape hesitated, and reached a hand into his robes. “I did find…I thought you might want…” He tailed off and drew an object out, which he held out to Harry. Harry took it. It was a pair of bent, charred glasses; identical to the pair Harry used to wear. He swallowed heavily.  

 

“Is this…are they…?”

 

“Yes,” Snape replied curtly, turning away. “Incidentally, why do you not wear your glasses anymore?” 

 

Harry looked up slowly, holding his father’s glasses tight in his hand. “I didn’t need them anymore,” he said dully.

 

Snape frowned. “What, just like that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Snape’s eyes lingered on Harry’s face. “Curious,” he said softly.

 

“What’s so curious?” Harry asked. “Dumbledore said it was just some more of Voldemort’s powers coming through…you know, like Parseltongue, and wandless magic and stuff…”

 

“Perhaps,” Snape said quietly, more to himself than Harry. “Perhaps…” He turned to look at Harry again. “Did Dumbledore ever explain why you received some of the Dark Lord’s powers that night?”

 

“Well…no, not really. He just said that it was because the curse backfired.”

 

“You look like him, you know.” Snape said suddenly.

 

“Who, Voldemort?” Harry asked in surprise. Snape flinched.

 

“The Dark Lord,” Snape hissed.

 

“I thought I looked like my dad,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

 

“You do,” Snape replied curtly. “But there is something in your expression, something in your face…your eyes. It reminds me of him. How he used to be.” 

Harry said nothing, thinking of the reflection he had seen in the mirror at the Dursley’s . He remembered how Tom Riddle had highlighted the ’strange likenesses’ between them in the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He had said they were ‘both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles…probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself’. He had finished off by saying ‘we even look something alike’. Harry shook his head.

 

“Well…anyway,” he managed, “you don’t have any idea what the sixth one could be, then?”

 

Snape hesitated before speaking. “No,” he said finally. “I suggest you go now, Potter. I will be in contact”.

 

  
As Harry stepped back through the portrait hole, the first thing he was greeted with was Ron’s livid face. 

 

 

**PLEASE REVIEW GUYS!! EVEN IF YOU WANT TO MAKE A CRITICISM, IT'S BETTER THAN NO REVIEW :D   I LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK, WHAT YOU LIKE/DONT LIKE...ETC!  
hOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! SELENE **


	33. The Awful Truth

  


 

**33**

**  
******

 

******The Awf** **ul Truth**   


 

 

 

Ron grabbed Harry by the neck and literally dragged him across the common room, Harry too stunned to struggle away.  


 

“Ron, what are you doing?” Hermione squealed, jumping up from her seat.  


 

“Yeah, Hermione, you better come too,” Ron snarled, still attempting to drag Harry, oblivious to the stares from the other Gryffindors.  


 

“Ron, what the hell…get of me!” Harry said aggressively, pulling Ron’s hands off him. They glared at each. “What is your problem?”  


 

“ _You_ are my problem!” Ron snarled. “Go upstairs…you too, Hermione - you should hear this.” Hermione went up to the boys’ dormitory doubtfully, Harry following her angrily.  


 

“What’s all this about, Ron?” she asked, attempting to sound calm.  


 

“Why don’t you ask Harry?” Ron said viciously.  


 

 “Ron, what are you on about?” Harry said fiercely.  


 

Ron looked at Hermione. “Harry’s been going for a lot of walks lately, hasn’t he?”  


 

“…yes…” Hermione said in a small voice, looking nervously from one to the other, as if hoping they wouldn’t start scrapping again.  


 

“I wondered why he suddenly loved walking so much…maybe he knew a nice spot where we could go too, Hermione,” Ron said mockingly, his face wild. “So I followed him.”  


 

“You…followed me?” Harry spluttered. “Well, that’s great Ron. Nice to know you trust me so much.”  


 

“Well, it’s a good thing I did, isn’t it?” Ron said, suddenly beginning to shout. “How could you, Harry? You, of all people? _How could you_?”  


 

“Ron, what…?”  


 

“What are you talking about, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking fearful.  


 

“HE’S GONE OVER TO THE OTHER SIDE!” Ron yelled, his hands clenched into fists. Harry simply stared, to dumbstruck to speak.  


 

“Ron, are you completely out of your mind?” Hermione gasped, her face pale.  


 

“NO! I followed him! He went through the Whomping Willow, into the Shrieking Shack…where he met up with SNAPE!”  


 

“Snape? Ron, there must have been a mistake! Harry hates Snape…they…he…Snape killed Dumbledore! Harry hates him!”  


 

Ron glared at Harry. “I heard you, Harry. I heard you both. You ran up there, and I heard you both. Having some sort of civil conversation, chatting away like best friends…how could you do this?”  


 

Harry was suddenly furious. “And did you bother to listen to any of the conversation before coming to your ingenious conclusion?” he said contemptuously.  


 

“Well…no,” Ron admitted. “But only because I was scared! For all I knew you might both come down and kill me!”    


 

“Ron!” Hermione said reproachfully.  


 

Harry stared at Ron, feeling sick. “And you think I would do that, Ron?” he asked quietly. Ron shrugged, although he looked slightly embarrassed.  


 

“Well, I dunno, do I Harry? All I know is that weird stuff has been happening to you, hasn’t it? Because of You-Know-Who and everything. And you’re telling us a pack of lies about going for walks, when really you’re gallivanting about with SNAPE!”  


 

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe…I actually cannot believe…that you would think that of me, Ron. I cannot believe you think I would side with Voldemort, after everything he has done to me.”  


 

“Well…what was I supposed to think?” Ron said, the tips of ears turning red.  


 

“You were supposed to ask me calmly and rationally what was happening and 

why I was meeting Snape,” Harry said in a dangerously quiet voice, “not drag me across the common room and accuse me of siding with the man who has killed everyone I care for.” There was an awkward silence.  


 

“Well…I’m sorry if there is an explanation for all this,” Ron said slowly. “But you’ve got to look at it from my point of view, Harry. You’ve been completely withdrawn these last few weeks…months, even. I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed so much, you’re not telling us anything…we know you’re hiding something huge from us, and then I see you with Snape…I mean, it doesn’t look good, does it?”  


 

Harry said nothing.  


 

“Will you talk to us, Harry?” Hermione said softly. “You can trust us…you know that.”  


 

“Yeah, I know I can,” Harry said quietly. “I’ve always known that. It was never that I didn’t trust you…it was that he told me not to tell anyone. Snape, I mean.”  


 

“So is he…is he on our side?” Hermione asked tentatively.  


 

“Yeah, believe it or not he is,” Harry said heavily.  


 

“Are you…are you sure?” Ron said sceptically.  


 

“Trust me…if he managed to convince even _me_ , he must be telling the truth,” Harry said calmly. “I didn’t exactly give him an easy time of it.” He told them exactly what had happened from the moment he was stunned and taken to the Shrieking Shack until his and Snape’s last meeting that day. True to his word, he left out the part about his mother. They both listened with wide eyes and, in Ron’s case, an open mouth.  


 

“I just can’t believe it,” he managed, when Harry had finished. “I never would have thought it…he just always seemed so…evil.” Harry nodded, but Hermione looked rather self-satisfied.  


 

“Well, I can’t say I’m that surprised. I always thought there was more to him then meets the eye.”   


 

“What, you thought it was all a plan?” Ron said scathingly.  


 

“Well, no, not entirely,” Hermione said coolly. “But I’ve always trusted Dumbledore’s judgement. If he trusted Snape, I always thought we should 

too.”  


 

“Well, he’s still a git though,” Ron said firmly. “Er…isn’t he Harry?” he added, looking curious.  


 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he most certainly is.”  
   


* * *  


 

 Harry moaned slightly in his sleep, turning onto his side and drawing his legs up into a foetal position. His breathing was loud and irregular, and his face was clammy.  


 

__

_‘Harry…oh Harry…’_   


 

Harry groaned again, his semi-conscious brain fighting against the visions that were invading it.  


 

__

_‘I see Severus, my slippery friend, had changed sides. Again. Well, well, well…I can’t say I’m not disappointed. But no matter…I will have my revenge. These are fickle times, are they not, Harry? I just don’t know who to trust anymore. What a shame._   


 

Harry buried his face in his pillow.  


 

__

_“You cannot force me away, Harry Potter.  We are two of a kind…one of kind, dare I say it. You cannot understand this, but you feel it inside you, do you not?’_   


 

“Harry? Harry, mate…are you okay?”  


 

Harry forced his eyes open, his heart pounding painfully. Ron was standing at the end of his bed, his face anxious. “You were dreaming…” Ron said uneasily.  


 

“Yeah,” Harry gasped. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a dream.” Ron nodded, and began to pull on his shirt.  


 

“You coming down to breakfast, Harry?”  


 

“No, I’m not that hungry,” Harry lied. “I’ll go down later.” In truth, he just wanted to be alone; he needed to think about something, although he wasn’t sure what it was. Something was nagging him in his mind, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was as though he couldn’t find the last piece of a jigsaw - something made sense, something was important…but it was just out of reach, just indiscernible. He sighed impatiently. The dormitory emptied slowly until only Harry was left. He frowned, thinking about his dream. Had Voldemort really broken into his mind again, and was that really him talking to him? Or was it all part of Harry’s dream? What did he mean, they were ‘two of a kind…one of a kind’? And why did he say that Harry could not understand this?  


 

Exhaling heavily, Harry stood up and walked over to the mirror. His green eyes stared listlessly back, his face looking even more pale than usual. He tried to flatten his hair down, and then stopped, a slight frown on his face. He pushed back his hair so his forehead was visible. His scar was slightly inflamed, as it often was after a dream or a vision, and it stood out against the pallor of his skin. He touched it gently, and felt hotness under his fingers. Something was not right…something was amiss…  


 

He walked down the stairs slowly and into the common room, sitting down heavily on a chair. If only Dumbledore was still alive. He would have been far more help than Snape ever could be. And hadn’t Snape said that Dumbledore had suspicions about what the sixth Horcrux could be? Harry remembered Dumbledore’s unwillingness to talk about it…why was this? He sighed again. He tapped his fingers on the table uneasily. He wondered why he felt so uncomfortable, why he felt like there was something missing, why he felt Snape was hiding something, just like Dumbledore had been…  


 

And then suddenly, horrifically, it all fell into place; the reason Voldemort had been able to possess him like that…the reason the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin…the reason Dumbledore had been so concerned about Harry’s growing powers…the reason why he had been so disturbed over Harry’s uncontrollable streaks of anger……the reason why Snape had reacted like that when he realised all the Horcruxes had cracks on them…the reason why he felt Dumbledore had been constantly hiding something…the reason why the Headmaster had looked so troubled when Harry had pressed him over what the sixth Horcrux could be…the reason why Snape was now replicating those looks…  


 

Harry was a Horcrux. He was the sixth one; Dumbledore had known all along. 

He’d known. Harry was a Horcrux. All the Horcruxes had jagged fractures running down them, and Harry’s hands flew back to his forehead. His scar. His fracture. Wave after wave of tumultuous horror flooded through him as the awful truth hit. The killing curse never left a mark…no one had been able to explain why Harry bore the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. He had always assumed it was because the curse rebounded, but it was not. It had nothing to do with the killing curse. His scar was the sign of a Horcrux; the sign all the other Horcruxes had been marked with; the lightning-bolt shaped crack.  


 

Inside him, somewhere in his body, resided one seventh of Voldemort’s soul, tainting him, infecting him. And Dumbledore had known it, all along - that was why he had not wanted Harry to look at the Horcruxes; he had not wanted him to see the lightning-bolt shaped fractures and put two and two together. That was why his power had been increasing; with every Horcrux that was destroyed, the remaining parts - in Harry and Voldemort himself - became stronger. The part of Voldemort inside Harry had been gaining strength for the last six months, and Harry had done nothing to stop it. He had welcomed his new powers with no thought for what could come with it. He felt sick. He felt his body begin to tremble uncontrollably.  


 

“Harry?” Ginny stepped up to him, a worried look creasing his face. “Harry?” She reached out a hand to his shoulder, but Harry jumped up, brushing it away violently.  


 

“Don’t touch me, Ginny,” he gasped, “don’t…I’m not…” He stared at her, his eyes wide and his face ashen.  


 

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Hermione stepped into the common room, walking quickly over to him as she saw his expression. Harry ducked away from her outstretched arm.  


 

“ _Don’t_!” he hissed frantically, “ _don’t touch me_!” He stumbled away and out of the common room. He lurched down the stairs and across the corridor, not entirely sure where he was going. He stopped outside what had been Professor Dumbledore’s office, and was now Professor McGonagall’s. Without hesitating or bothering to knock, he burst into the room. Professor McGonagall looked up from her work, annoyance written over her features. She took one look at Harry’s pale, horror-struck face, however, and stood up.  


 

“Potter? What on earth is the matter?”  


 

Harry ignored her. His attention was focussed entirely on the portrait that hung behind the desk; the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.  


 

“You knew, didn’t you?” he said quietly, in a voice that shook. The Dumbledore in the portrait did not look up. He was snoozing lightly, his hands folded over his midnight blue robes, a peaceful look on his face. “Wake up!” Harry hissed at the portrait, taking a step forward.  


 

“Potter? What…?”  


 

“WAKE UP!” Harry yelled, suddenly furious. “WAKE UP!” He kicked the bottom of the desk violently, and Professor McGonagall started. “YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS! YOU CANNOT JUST SIT THERE…NOT HELP ME…YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!”  


 

“Potter, what on earth is that matter?” Professor McGonagall said, taking a wary step closer to him. Harry did not seem to hear her.  


 

“You knew, didn’t you? All along…you knew, and you didn’t tell me. Why? How could you do this? How could you leave me to face this on my own?” The Dumbledore in the picture slumbered on, oblivious. “How could you not tell me? How do you think it feels for me, to have no-one to help me…except SNAPE! How d‘you expect me to do this now? IT’S ME! IT’S INSIDE ME! HOW CAN I DO THIS? _WAKE UP_!”  


 

“Harry!” Professor McGonagall entreated. The boy was shaking with anger, and also with what looked like fear. “Harry, please, sit down.” She tentatively touched his arm, and when he did not recoil, she clasped it more firmly, leading him across to a chair. He did not sit, but merely gripped the back of it until his knuckles were white. McGonagall conjured up a glass of water and forced it into his hand. “Drink,” she commanded. Harry looked blankly at the portrait, seemingly not registering the glass in his hand. He clenched his fists and the glass shattered, spilling the water onto the floor. He still didn’t seem to notice, and continued to clench the broken shards of glass in his hand.  


 

“Harry!” Professor McGonagall unfurled his hand and extracted the glass. His hand was bleeding profusely, thick drops of blood dripping onto the carpet. Harry watched it with a mild interest, apparently unconscious of any pain. “Harry, sit down and stay there…I’m going to fetch Madam Pomfrey.”  


 

Harry stared at her for a moment, and then a strange smile crossed his face. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, gesturing to his hand and the blood. “It’s okay. The less there is of me, the less there is of him. It’s okay. It‘s only blood.” He laughed. “Maybe we should spill it all.”  


 

Professor McGonagall stared at him in appalled silence. “Stay here,” she commanded, and then virtually ran out of the room. Harry stayed in his seat, idly watching his blood pool on the floor.  Professor McGonagall came rushing back in a few moments later, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey.  


 

“What is it this time, Potter?” she asked wearily.  


 

“It’s okay,” Harry said calmly, in a strangely faraway voice. “It’s just blood. It’s okay. It‘s probably not my blood anyway.” He let out another soft laugh.  


 

Madam Pomfrey shot McGonagall a concerned look, which McGonagall reciprocated. “Drink this, Potter,” she said, handing him a vial of purple liquid. “It’s a calming draught,” she explained when Harry looked at it rather apprehensively. He gulped it down, and leaned back in his seat. “What exactly happened, Minerva?” Madam Pomfrey asked in a low voice, after she had healed his hand.  


 

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “I don’t exactly know, Poppy,” she said quietly. “He just burst into the room and started shouting at Albus’s portrait, asking him to wake up. He was saying something about something being inside him. He mentioned Snape, too. I gave him a glass of water but he broke the glass, and then didn’t even seem to notice that the glass was cutting in to him. When I tried to help him he actually started laughing…saying it didn’t matter, it was only blood. And then,” she said, looking disturbed, “he said maybe we should spill it all.”  


 

Madam Pomfrey felt Harry’s forehead. “He’s in a severe state of shock, Minerva. Something must have happened to trigger it. Potter?” she asked, tilting his head up so that he was looking at her. “Potter, how do you feel?”  


 

“I’m fine,” he answered dully, his smile gone.  


 

“Well, the calming draught seems to have helped,” Madam Pomfrey said, sounding rather satisfied. “But I think he should spend a night in the hospital wing, just to make sure. You never know with him.” She put a hand on his arm. “Come on, Potter. Come with me.”  


 

He stood up obediently and let her lead him out of the office, his eyes vacant. Professor McGonagall watched him go, her face very troubled. When the door had shut, she went over to the fireplace and stuck her head in.  


 

“Remus?” she said, after a short while. “I think you should come here, immediately. It’s Harry."

Oh Dear. Poor Harry, huh? I have to admit though, I do love torturing him…it’s so much more fun to write bad stuff than good stuff! So sorry to all those who were hoping for a bit of lightness…it’s not gonna happen! (At least, not yet :p ) But I promise, he won’t get any crazier…I think he’s reached his limit!  
I do think Harry is a horcrux, though, so I figure if I write about it and make it really horrible, I’ll be prepared for the real thing! (If he is one, of course!) Please review!! :D  



	34. Promises

Well, this one was fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :D  


 

**34**

**Promises  
**

 

 Remus Lupin hurried in to the hospital wing, his face tired and grave. Harry was sitting on a bed, looking down at his hands. He looked up quickly as Remus entered and tried to smile, but it looked stretched and forced **.  
**

“Harry?” Remus asked worriedly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “What happened?”  
 

Harry shrugged. “Cut my hand,” he said monotonously. “It’s okay now.”  
 

“Harry, I’m not talking about your hand!” Remus said, rather crossly. “Tell me what has happened.”  
 

Harry was silent, still looking at his hands as though trying to find traces of blood. “I can’t,” he said finally, in a soft voice.   
 

Remus tightened his grip on Harry’s shoulders. “Why can’t you? Why can’t you tell me, Harry?”  
 

“Because they told me not to,” Harry mumbled. “Both of them.”  
 

“Who? Who told you not to?” Remus said urgently.  
 “Dumbledore,” Harry said slowly. “And Snape.”  
 

“Snape?” Remus repeated with disgust. “What’s Snape got to do with this?”  
 

Harry shook his head again. “I can’t tell you, Remus.”  
 

Remus screwed up his face with frustration. “You can, Harry! You _can_ tell me! You cannot do this on your own - look at you! You cannot cope with this, and I don’t blame you! Tell me, Harry!” He shook Harry by the shoulders forcefully, but still Harry did not look up. Remus looked into the boy’s face - so similar to James’s, and yet so different - and felt his heart ache. “Let me help you, Harry,” he said, his voice cracking. “For Merlin’s sake, let me help you.”    
 

He felt Harry’s shoulders slump. Slowly, Harry looked up, his green eyes looking intently into Remus’s. Barely perceptibly, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly, “okay, Remus.”  
 

Lupin sighed in relief. “Thank you, Harry,” he said gently, giving him a brief hug. “Now…what’s happened to you? What is this about?”  
 

Harry sighed heavily, a look of anguish crossing his face. “Alright, Remus…what do you know about Horcruxes?”  
 

* * *  
 

Remus stared at Harry in horror. “It’s in you? Oh, Merlin.” He passed a shaking hand over his eyes. “Harry, are you sure? I mean…you can’t be certain, can you?”  
 

Harry looked at him almost pityingly. “Not one hundred percent certain, no. But come on, Remus…you know it’s true.”  
 

“Maybe…maybe you should talk to Snape about it,” Remus said slowly. “I mean, he might know for sure, mightn’t he?”  
 

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Harry said dismally. “Dunno how I’m going to get in contact with him, though.”  
 

“Can’t you try what he did? Break into his mind and tell him?”  
 

Harry looked doubtful. “I dunno. I dunno if I’ll be able to.” He shrugged. “I’ll have a go, though.” He shut his eyes tightly and pictured Snape’s face in his mind. He imagined the man’s black eyes, and imagined pushing through them, past them, into the mind that lay behind. He could feel some resistance, and realised he had successfully breached Snape’s mind.  
 

‘What do you want, Potter?’ Snape’s voice reverberated in his mind.  
 

‘I need to talk to you,’ Harry thought fiercely. ‘It’s important. I need to talk to you now.’  
 

‘Very well,’ Snape’s voice said. ‘I’ll be in the Shrieking Shack in ten minutes.’  
 

“Well?” Remus asked eagerly when Harry reopened his eyes. “Did you do it?”  
 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “He’s meeting me in the Shrieking Shack in ten minutes. I should go now, it’ll take a while to get there.”  
 

“I’m coming with you,” Remus said quickly, standing up. Harry sighed impatiently.  
 

“No, Remus…really, it’s fine. He didn’t want me to tell anyone anyway, he might be angry -”  
 

“I don’t care if he’s angry!” Remus said with surprising vehemence. “He cannot expect you to bear this on your own!”  
 

“Okay,” Harry said resignedly, “okay. Let’s go then.”  


The two hurriedly left the castle, walking swiftly across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow.

“This brings back memories,” Remus muttered as they climbed the stairs inside the Shrieking Shack. “I didn’t think I’d be coming here again.”  
 

They stepped into the room with the bed in. Snape was already in there, his back turned, but he whirled around when Harry and Remus entered.  
 

“Lupin!” he spat in surprise, and then turned to Harry. “I told you not to tell anyone!” he said accusingly. Harry said nothing, but Remus placed a hand on his shoulder.  
 

“Harry had to tell someone,” he said tightly, looking fiercely at Snape. “You have no idea what this has been like for him. He would have gone mad if he had not told someone.”  
 

Snape’s lip curled but he did not press the matter. “Well, what is so important that you had to drag me here at a moments notice, Potter?”  
    
Harry swallowed. “I think I know…” He stopped and shook his head. “No…I _know_ what the sixth Horcrux is.”  
Snape stared at him, his face blanching slightly. “And what is it?” he asked quietly.  
 

Harry looked at him. “It’s me,” he said evenly, looking closely at his face to gauge his reaction. Snape opened his mouth, about to say something, but then shut it again. He rubbed his chin, his eyes lingering on Harry’s scar.  
 

“Yes,” he said, in a surprisingly soft voice. “Yes, I do believe it is.”  
 

“Did you know?” Harry asked calmly.  
 

“No, Potter, I did not know,” Snape said quietly. “But I did…I did think…perhaps…” He shook his head impatiently. “…when I saw the marks on all the other Horcruxes…I thought it…and everything else seemed to…make sense. When I went to Godric’s Hollow and found nothing, I had no idea what it could be…unless it was you.”  
 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked steadily.  
 

“Because I was not sure,” Snape said, as if that were obvious. “There was no point in alarming you if I was not certain.” He paused, looking at Harry. “How did you find out?”  
 

Harry shrugged. “I had another dream…Voldemort was speaking to me again. He was saying stuff like we’re two of a kind, one of a kind, and that I couldn’t understand it. When I woke up, I just started thinking about it…about why there is this connection between us, why the bond is so strong. And then I looked at my scar, and I saw…I saw it for what it was. The mark of a Horcrux.” Harry felt Remus flinch next to him, but ignored it. “So that means he knows, doesn’t it? Voldemort, I mean. He knows I’m a Horcrux.”  
 

“Yes, that is what I think,” Snape replied smoothly. “If you remember what you were saying to Dumbledore, when the Dark Lord was possessing you at the Order meeting…he was taunting Dumbledore. He said something like ‘see what I can do…you know why, don’t you?’ He most certainly knows - that is probably why he has ordered his Death Eaters not to kill you.”  
 

“But he’s tried to kill me before,” Harry said, confused. “Last year, at the Ministry…the year before, in the graveyard…”   
 

“He must not have known then,” Snape said slowly, “which means that he did not make you a Horcrux deliberately.”  
 

Remus frowned. “He did it accidentally? How? A bit of a hard mistake to make, isn’t it?”  
 

Snape paused, thinking. “If I am right in thinking that the Potters are the last descendants of Gryffindor, then it is likely the Dark Lord would have wanted to make a Horcrux in their house. He knew the sword was out of reach, so he had to make do with this. I think,” he said slowly, “that when he went to Godric’s Hollow, he intended to make his last Horcrux with your death, Potter. Do not forget that he would think your death was very significant; he was destroying the one person he thought would threaten him. I can only presume that in his excitement, amidst all the commotion involving your mother and father, he shot the curse before he meant to, and it hit you.”  
 

“That seems rather unlikely,” Remus said, looking doubtful.  
 

“Do you have anything better to suggest, Lupin?” Snape asked icily.  
 

“It makes sense,” Harry said carefully, fingering his scar. “I mean, it explains why I didn’t die, doesn’t it? Why the curse backfired. And of course, it also explains why there are such strong similarities between us.” Snape nodded.   
Remus looked very anxious. “Well, what is to be done?” he said worriedly. “If Harry is the sixth Horcrux, how does it work? Because Voldemort can only die if all his Horcruxes have been destroyed, but Harry is the only one who can kill him.  So how does that work?”  
 

“I don’t know,” Snape admitted. “But you are right; the sixth Horcrux must be destroyed in order for the Dark Lord to die.”  
 

“But Harry is the sixth Horcrux!” Remus hissed angrily. “Don’t talk like that!”  
 

“He’s right though, Remus,” Harry said heavily. Remus looked from Harry to Snape.  
 

“Is there not a way? You can extract them, can’t you? I mean, the ring and the cup and the locket are still intact, aren’t they? They’re just not Horcruxes anymore. Can’t we…?”  
 

“It’s different for objects that are alive, Lupin,” Snape said coldly. “You cannot extract them in the same way. I tried to think of a way that I could extract it from Nagini, so the Dark Lord would not realise what I had done, but I could think of nothing.”  
 

“Well you can’t just give up!” Remus said, his face appalled. “Harry is a boy…not a snake!”  
 

“I am aware of that, Lupin,” Snape said loftily.  
 

“Does he know?” Harry asked suddenly. “Voldemort, I mean. Does he know that his other Horcruxes have been destroyed? Does he know that I’m the only one left?”  
 

Snape paused. “No, I don’t think he does, Potter. He of course knows that one of his Horcruxes has been destroyed - his snake - but I do not think he realises I know about them.”  
 

“But then why would he think you killed his snake?” Harry asked blankly.  
 

“I think he would see it as an act of defiance,” Snape said leisurely, “a final act of insubordination before I left. Arrogance is one of many the characteristics you share with the Dark Lord, Potter,” he said with a sneer, and Harry felt Remus bristle next to him. “I doubt he would think that anyone could have figured out his masterful plan.”  
 

“Right,” Harry said. “Well, I s’pose it’s good that he doesn’t know, isn’t it? It’ll give us the element of surprise.”  
 

Snape nodded. “Yes. Well, I have things that I need to be doing now.  I will try and think of a way to extract the Horcrux which does not involve your death, Potter,” he said, rather nastily. He turned abruptly and swept out of the room. Remus glared after him, but Harry was unruffled.  
 

“It’s all right, Remus,” he said evenly, hoping to pacify him. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’ve known it would always come to something like this. With great evil comes great sacrifice. That’s what Dumbledore wrote in his letter to me. He sacrificed his life for me, Remus, as did Sirius, and my mum, and my dad. So I can’t let it happen again, can I? It’s about time I made my own sacrifices.”  
 

“But Harry, you have made your own sacrifices!” Remus said passionately. “You have sacrificed your childhood…your friends…your happiness! You cannot give any more!”  
 

“But I have to, Remus,” Harry said steadily. “You know I do. What’s going to happen if I don’t? How many more will die? It’s fine, Remus. Really.”  
 

Tears sprang into Remus eyes. “How can you be okay with this, Harry?” he said, his face twisted in pain.  
 

Harry shrugged, trying to sound braver than he felt. “It’s not too bad. It’s not as if I’ll be on my own, is it? I’ll see Dumbledore again, and Sirius…and I’ll see my parents, Remus. That’s got to count for something, hasn’t it?”  
 

“But they wouldn’t want to see you now, Harry!” Remus cried. “They want to see you when you’re old, when you’ve lived! They want you to grow old, get married, have children…they want you to have a life, Harry! What about what you have to live for here? What about me, what about Ron, Hermione? What about Ginny?”  
 

Harry tensed. “I’m not with Ginny anymore, Remus,” he said quietly.  
 

“But you can be when it’s over! You know you can, Harry! Doesn’t _that_ count for something?”  
 

Harry sighed. “Of course it does, Remus. I’m not saying I want to die, because of course I don’t. All I’m saying is that if there is no other way, if there is no way to get the Horcrux out, then I’m prepared to. That’s all.”  
 

“Well, you shouldn’t be prepared to,” Remus said firmly. “This isn’t your fate, Harry. This isn’t the path you are meant to take.”  
 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What, despite there being a prophecy stating otherwise?” he said wryly.  
 

“Forget the damn prophecy!” Remus cried. Harry had never seen him so distressed. “The prophecy means nothing! All it says is that one will kill the other - and you will be the one doing the killing, Harry, I swear it! Whatever it takes, I won’t let you die; Voldemort will kill you over my dead body.”  
 

“NO!” Harry suddenly yelled, grabbing Remus by the arms and shaking him. “ _Don’t say that to me!_ ”he hissed through gritted teeth. “ _Don’t you say that_!”  
 

Remus paused, obviously a bit shocked. “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean…”  
 

Harry turned away. He shook his head, breathing rather heavily. “No one else is going to stand between me and Voldemort, Remus. No one. I’m not a little child anymore who needs protecting. This is mine to finish, and I’m not going to let anyone else stand between us.” He turned back to face Remus. “You have to promise me, Remus. If I let you in, if I let you help me….you have to promise me. You have to promise me that whatever is happening, whatever danger I am in, you are not going to risk your life for me. Promise me that.”  
 

Remus hesitated. “I…I can’t do that, Harry. I can’t…”  
 

“ _I am not going to let anyone else lay down their life for me_!” Harry snarled, his voice shaking. “I won’t let you! If you don’t promise me this now, _Lupin_ , I will walk out of this room and I will never talk to you again!” He was trembling from head to toe.  
 

Remus buried his face in his hands for a moment, and then looked up. “Okay, Harry,” he said softly. “I promise.” 

Harry nodded, and turned away again. “But you must promise me one thing, Harry,” he continued.  
 

“What?” Harry asked warily.  
 

“You must promise me that you will not give in…you will not give up your life without a fight. You must promise me that your death must be the final option, when there truly is no other way. You must promise me that you will not give up your hope, you will not abandon your dreams. You have everything to live for, Harry, you need to realise that. You must promise me.”  
 

Harry nodded. “I promise.”  
 

“Good,” Remus said quietly, “because this is not your fate, Harry. This is not what is meant to happen to you.”  
 

“And why are you so sure, Remus?” Harry asked tiredly.  
 

Remus looked at Harry intently. “When I first saw you and Ginny together, Harry, together as a couple, do you know what I thought?” Harry shook his head. “I thought I had stepped back in time - stepped back twenty years. I thought I was seeing Lily and James. It is no coincidence that you look so much like James, and Ginny looks so much like Lily, Harry. It is destiny’s way of telling you that this is your future, this is meant to be. She is the one for you, Harry, and you cannot let that chance slip away so easily.”  
 

Harry was silent, feeling strangely shaken. “I never realised,” he said softly, “I never noticed that she looked like my mum.” Now it had been pointed out, however, he wondered how he had ever missed it. Of course there were differences for both of them - different eyes, slightly different noses - but the similarity was uncanny.  
 

Remus nodded. “We all thought it, Harry. Dumbledore pointed it out, and we all realised. It’s not just in looks that Ginny is like Lily, Harry - it’s in personality too. Lily was loyal and kind, and stood up for what she believed in, and Ginny is the sane. You two are meant to be, just as James and Lily were.”  
 

Harry nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “But I still…I mean, we can’t…not until it’s over. Not until I’ve finished it.”  
 

“I understand, Harry,” Remus said, a little sadly. “But you better make sure it’s the first thing you do when this is over. You two are meant to get married and have lots of babies…not sit around twiddling your thumbs.”  
 

Harry blushed slightly. “Easy there, Remus…I’m not even seventeen yet!”  
 

“Don’t you want to?”  
 

“Well,” Harry said awkwardly, “I hadn’t really thought. I mean, yeah, sure, I suppose…one day. But not yet!” he added hastily.  
 

“Your parents got married when they were eighteen and had you by the time they were twenty-one,” Remus said with an impish grin.    
 

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, still rather red. “I think I might wait just a little bit longer than that.”  
 

Remus reached out a hand and ruffled his hair. “That’s what James said, too. Didn’t do much good, did it?” he said, still grinning.  


 “Shut up, Remus,” Harry said, embarrassed. Remus laughed.

 

 

I **liked the fact that Lupin’s instinct to protect Harry went completely against Harry’s insistence that no one else would die…I enjoyed writing about how they both were suffering, but in different ways. I thought I’d finish the chapter on a relatively light note, especially since Harry’s had a rather tough time as of late!  
** **PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you thought - all views greatly appreciated! :D**  


 


	35. The Mirror of Erised

**35**

  
  
**The Mirror of Erised**   


 

  
  
Harry did not tell Ron or Hermione about what he had discovered. He knew he would not be able to stand the fear in Ron’s eyes, and the horror in Hermione’s. He would tell them, of course - just not yet. As soon as he walked into the common room that afternoon he was pounced on by Ginny and Hermione, wanting to know why had had acted so oddly earlier that day.  


 

  
“Harry? Are you okay now? What happened? Why did you rush off like that?” Ginny asked gently.  


 

  
“We looked for you everywhere but couldn’t find you, and McGonagall wouldn’t tell us anything,” Hermione chimed in.  


 

  
“I’m fine. Really,” Harry added when the girls looked sceptical. “I mean, I was a bit…I was a bit…well, I’m okay now, anyway,” he said awkwardly. Hermione still looked doubtful but nodded and turned away. Ginny stayed where she was, looking at her feet.  


 

  
“Why won’t you talk to us, Harry?” she asked sadly. She looked so beautiful, so heartbreaking standing there that Harry was actually forced to turn away to stop himself doing something he knew he could not.  
  


 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ginny,” he said firmly, beginning to walk away. He felt her touch his arm and swallowed. “What?” he asked quietly   
  


 

“Harry,” she said softly, stepping in front of him. “Why are you doing this to yourself? To us? To me?” She sighed and frowned slightly.  
  


 

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. Without thinking about what he was doing, he stepped closer to her and pulled her in. “I’m sorry, Gin,” he murmured, lowering his head and kissing her softly. He wasn’t sure how long it was until she pulled away, her face sad and confused.  


 

  
“You can’t do this, Harry,” she whispered, “you can’t do this to me. If we’re not together then we’re not together. You can’t just…you can’t just decide you want out and then do this.”  
  


 

“I know…I know, Ginny. It’s just…” Harry sighed in frustration. “Look…I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again - I promise.” He walked smartly away and up into his dormitory, ignoring the curious looks the other people in the room were giving him.   
Ginny stood where she was for a while, her face expressionless.  
  


 

“That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, Harry,” she whispered softly to herself.  


 

  
* * *  


 

  
Harry flung himself down on his bed, his head spinning. That wasn’t meant to have happened, he thought angrily. He shouldn’t have done that. It was Remus’s fault - all that stuff about Ginny being the one for him, about them being meant to be…it had made Harry’s brain a bit loose. He sighed in frustration. Part of him - the rational side - was telling him forget about it and move on; being with Ginny was not an option now. It put her life in danger - it was wrong. The other side of him, however, was remembering how amazing it had just felt to kiss her…how could something that felt so right be so wrong?   
  


 

He buried his head in his pillow. Think about something else, he told himself sternly. There are more important things to think about now than kissing your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Harry growled.   


 

Horcruxes. He would think about that. At once a sense of hopelessness sank over him, a feeling of despair so deep that he thought he could drown in it. He sighed to himself, wishing for the umpteenth time that Dumbledore was still alive. Dumbledore would have…hang on… Harry sat up quickly, rifling through his trunk until he found Dumbledore’s letter. He re-read the third paragraph quickly, certain phrases jumping out at him.  
  


 

I’m sure that you have questions unanswered right now, advice you need…tap the mirror with your wand…hopefully, you will gain some much needed answers…this event can only happen once…you must make sure that the answers you need are imperative.  
  


 

Harry looked up, his heart beating quickly. What could be more important than this? He had been deliberately putting off going to the mirror, certain that there would come a time where he had no other alternative. But wasn’t this the time? What other options did he have? Without dwelling on it any more, Harry folded the letter into his pocket and hurried down the stairs, across the common room and through the portrait hole. He walked speedily to Professor McGonagall’s office, hesitated for one moment, and then knocked loudly.  
  


 

“Come in,” Professor McGonagall called briskly from inside. “Potter!” she said in surprise as he entered. “How are you?”  
  


 

“Er…I’m fine, Professor,” Harry said awkwardly. “Sorry about…er…sorry about earlier. Breaking the glass and everything.”  
  


 

“I wasn’t worried about the glass, Potter,” McGonagall said, sounding slightly exasperated. “But you’re better now?”  
  


 

“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding fervently, although she noticed that he avoided her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Er…the thing is…I was just wondering whether I could have a few minutes alone. Well…thirty minutes, if you don’t mind.”  
  


 

Professor McGonagall stared at him. “In here? Alone?”  


 

  
“Er…yeah.”  


 

  
“Potter…you don’t want to talk to his portrait, do you?” she asked softly.  


 

  
“No!” Harry said in surprise. “No, really, I don’t. I mean, I know I did earlier…but that was just…you know, I just…” He paused. “Look, I’ve got a letter from Dumbledore.” She reached out a hand to take it, but Harry held onto it. “No, you can’t…er, sorry, but you can’t read it all.”  
  


 

Professor McGonagall looked like she was trying to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Then what is the purpose of showing me it, Potter?”  
  


 

“If you just read this bit,” Harry said quickly, extending the letter but covering his hands over all but a few lines.  
  


 

Professor McGonagall read it aloud. “If you go to my office (or Professor McGonagall’s office, as it would presumably be now) you will find a large silver cupboard in the far left corner. Open it. Professor McGonagall will have the key - if you show her this letter I am sure she will give it to you, as well as giving you the privacy you will need.” She sniffed. “I won’t even bother asking what this is about, Potter,” she said, bending over her desk and rummaging through one of the drawers.  
  


 

“Er…thanks,” Harry said uncomfortably. McGonagall stood up and handed him a silver key. She gave him a brief searching look before turning away.   
  


 

“I will return in half an hour, Potter. Try not to break anything.”  
  


 

“I won’t!” Harry said, trying to sound insulted. “Thanks!” he called after her retreating back.   
  


 

As soon as the door shut, he quickly crossed the room and stood opposite the silver cupboard. He slotted the key into the keyhole and turned it, and the cupboard swung open at once. Sure enough, standing a few feet back was the Mirror of Erised. It looked the same as it had almost six years ago, the strange inscription still carved into the ornate gold frame: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Harry shrugged, feeling as baffled as he had done when he was eleven. He glanced once more at Dumbledore’s note, and then drew out his wand. He screwed his eyes up, picturing Dumbledore’s face in his mind…the kind, twinkling blue eyes…the half-moon glasses that sat upon the crooked nose…the long silver beard… Still closing his eyes, Harry tapped his wand lightly onto the Mirror, feeling rather foolish. He wasn’t sure whether he should open his eyes or not. He thought it was safer to keep the image of Dumbledore in his mind, just in case it hadn’t worked, so he kept his eyes tightly closed.  
  


 

And then…and then he heard it. A voice so familiar, so friendly, so kind…a voice he had thought he would never hear again.   
  


 

“Hello, Harry.”  
  


 

Harry’s eyes flew open, and he staggered backwards in shock. There, reflected in the Mirror of Erised - as clear as anything - was Albus Dumbledore. Harry whirled around, his eyes scanning the empty office. He turned back the Mirror, his heart pounding madly.  
  


 

“Hello,” Dumbledore repeated calmly, although he looked distinctly like he was enjoying himself.  


 

  
“Am I…am I dreaming?” Harry whispered.   


 

  
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he smiled. “No, Harry. You are not dreaming.”  


 

  
“But are you…are you YOU? I mean…” Harry trailed off uncertainly, and Dumbledore smiled again.  


 

  
“Am I in truth the real Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief of the Wizengamot, Defeater of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, and woolly sock enthusiast? Or am I a mere imprint of myself, like the portrait that now undoubtedly hangs in this office?” he asked, his eyes sparkling. Harry nodded again, blushing slightly as he remembered how he had yelled at Dumbledore‘s portrait. “Yes, Harry, I am real.”   


 

  
“But…but...”  


 

  
“You want to know how I can talk to you,” Dumbledore said kindly, and Harry nodded. “I trust you know that no spell can reawaken the dead, Harry. However, I did foresee an occasion when it would be imperative for you to talk to me, and being - forgive me - a rather exceptionally clever man, I found a way. I can appear and talk to you, but for only half an hour.”  
  


 

“How did you do it?” Harry whispered.  
  


 

“I charmed the mirror before I died,” Dumbledore said simply. “It is extraordinarily advanced magic…it took even myself months to complete it. When the charm was completed, I lost half an hour of my time…time that I am now spending here, with you. This means, however, that I am the same Albus Dumbledore as I was then; in short, I do not know what has happened since that day. I also am powerless to change the events that have occurred since then.” He paused, smiling at Harry. “Do you remember the evening we had our Occlumency lesson, and you informed me of you suspicions about Mr Malfoy and Professor Snape?” Harry nodded. “Well, that was the evening I finally completed the charm, and therefore that is where my memory stops. You will have to fill me in from there, Harry.”  
  


 

“It was the next day,” Harry said hoarsely, still in a state of shock. “The next day…you died.”  


 

  
“Well, that’s rather helpful for us, isn’t it?” Dumbledore said happily. “You only have a days worth of events to fill me in with. If you would begin now, Harry…we do not have that long.”  
  


 

“Snape killed you!” Harry blurted out, watching Dumbledore’s reaction carefully.  
  


 

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore said reprovingly. “Did he really? Can you tell me how it happened? And what happened afterwards?” he asked mildly. Harry told him everything quickly, from his vision in the Transfiguration class to his meeting with Snape in the Shrieking Shack.  
  


 

“Is he telling the truth then, sir?” Harry asked hurriedly. “That you did plan this? That you did tell him he had to do it?”  
  


 

“Yes, he is telling the truth, Harry. He was reluctant to enter into such a promise, but I made him. It had to be done. Please pass on my thanks to him for fulfilling his bargain so admirably,” he said merrily. “I have always trusted Severus Snape, as you well know, Harry. I have great reason to trust him.”  
  


 

“He told me,” Harry said hesitantly, “he told me about…about my mum.”   
  


 

Dumbledore looked surprised. “Did he really? I must confess I thought Severus would never be able to bring himself to tell anyone that - least of all you. It must have been a last resort; you must have been very reluctant to believe him, Harry.”  
  


 

“Well…I was,” Harry admitted.  


 

  
“And I would expect nothing less from you,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “Perhaps this will at last stop your suspicions about him.”  
  


 

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like Snape, does it? Because I’ll never like him.”  


 

  
“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore said again, but Harry shook his head.  


 

  
“He doesn’t teach here anymore, so he’s not my professor,” he pointed out accurately 

 

  
  
“That is true,” Dumbledore conceded. “But I think when this is all over and he is cleared, Severus would perhaps like to continue teaching here. So in that case, you would of course be expected to call him Professor.”   
  


 

Harry stared at him. “Er…okay, sir.”  
  


 

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said with a jovial smile. “Well, enough chit chat for now. I sense there is something you want to ask me, Harry?”  
  


 

“Well…yeah,” Harry said slowly. “It’s about…it’s about the Horcruxes, sir.”  
  


 

Dumbledore nodded, his face suddenly grave. “Ah, I thought it might be. What of them, Harry?”  
  


 

“Well…Snape got rid of the fifth one. You were right, it was Nagini. So there’s only one left, not counting the part inside Voldemort himself.”  
  


 

Dumbledore nodded again. “And do you know what it is?” he asked softly. Harry nodded.  
  


 

“Yes,” he said simply.  
  


 

“What is it?” Dumbledore said quietly. They looked at each other for a while. Harry got the impression that Dumbledore was holding his breath.  
  


 

Harry swallowed. “It’s me.” Dumbledore said nothing, but he paled and a look of pain crossed his face. “But I think you knew that already, didn’t you, sir?” Harry continued.  


 

  
“No, Harry, I did not know,” Dumbledore said sadly. “But I suspected. I had suspected for some time, ever since you tortured Bellatrix over Christmas. I remember thinking then that the Harry I knew would not have been able to do that. As your powers increased, so did my suspicions. When he was able to break into your mind again, even possess you, it all fell into place. But I could not believe it. I could not let myself. There had to be something I had overlooked, had to be another explanation.” He sighed. “But alas, it seems there is not.”  
  


 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry said flatly. “Even if you only suspected it, you should have told me. At least I would have been prepared. Hearing it from you would have made it a lot easier than finding out myself and not having anyone to talk to apart from Snape.”  
  


 

“I am sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore said sorrowfully. “I can only say that I could not bring myself to do so. It was hard enough to even suspect it myself, let alone tell you. Again, it seems I was blinded by emotions. I am very sorry.”  
  


 

“Well…it doesn’t matter anymore,” Harry said despondently. “I just…I just don’t know how I’m going to do it. Kill him, I mean. I’m the only one who can do it, but I can’t if one of the Horcruxes is still inside me. He won’t die. Is there a way to simultaneously kill him and myself? I don’t know how I can do it.”  
  


 

Dumbledore paused. “What makes you think you have to die, Harry?”  
  


 

Harry stared. “Well…I need to destroy the Horcrux in me, sir,” he said, as if Dumbledore was being stupid. When Dumbledore said nothing he continued. “I mean, it’s fine. Well, it’s not really, but I’m okay with it now. When I first found out, I was…well, I don’t particularly want to die. But I think I’d always know it would come to this. D’you remember what you said in your letter to me? With great evil comes great sacrifice. And it’s true, isn’t it?”  
  


 

Dumbledore was silent for quite a long while, and then he spoke, very slowly. “There may be one way, Harry. When I first started to suspect, I spent countless hours thinking of a way to destroy it without you sacrificing your life. After all, when I destroyed the other Horcruxes, the objects themselves still remained, did they not?”  
  


 

“Nagini didn’t,” Harry pointed out.  
  


 

“No, but I daresay Professor Snape was not as concerned with her survival as I am for yours,” Dumbledore replied with a faint smile.   
  


 

“So you…er, you have an idea?” Harry said, not daring yet to get his hopes up.  
  


 

“I do, yes.” Dumbledore surveyed Harry over his half-moon glasses. “I trust you know what the Dementor’s kiss is, Harry?  


 

  
Harry stared. “They suck your soul out through your mouth,” he said blankly, a feeling of horror rising over him. Dumbledore nodded.  
  


 

“Indeed. Would it not be possible, therefore, that if one had two souls inside him, a Dementor would be able to extract only part of it?”  
  


 

“You tell me,” Harry said dazedly.   
  


 

Dumbledore smiled. “I think it would be. Of course, it would have to be performed under the right conditions, and taking the correct safety precautions, but I think it would work. Voldemort’s soul is not embedded in yours, Harry. His is a separate fragment, disconnected from yours. A Dementor would be more likely to extract the shattered soul first, the soul that is the most negative, the most twisted. It would be far easier to extract that than a whole, complete soul, like yours is. If you harbour every happy, loving thought you possess, I am certain they will extract Voldemort’s soul first.”  


 

  
“Er…but won’t they just suck out my own soul straight after?”   


 

  
“Of course they will,” Dumbledore said simply. “That is why you must take the correct safety precautions. I am not expecting you to do this alone, Harry; I think Professor Snape would be an admirable companion. He would be able to expel the Dementor when the Horcrux has been destroyed, and before the Dementor attempts to take your own soul. Of course,” he added with a smile, “you would have to trust him implicitly for that.”   
  


 

Harry stared at Dumbledore for a while, his head spinning. “Well,” he said finally, “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”   
  


 

“One always has a choice, Harry,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. Harry looked at him, still unable to believe his old Headmaster was there, right in front of him.  
  


 

“Will you…will you be able to visit me again, sir?”  


 

  
“Visit you? My boy, it is you who is visiting me. And I certainly hope that you will not visit me again for a very long time…not until you are an old, old man.” He beamed at Harry, and Harry felt his chest tighten at the familiarity of it. It was like losing Dumbledore all over again; never again would Dumbledore smile like that at him. Dumbledore shook his head gently. “Do not let your grief rule you, Harry. Death is but the next adventure, and one we all must have to take. I will not have left you, Harry, just as I know your parents and Sirius have not left you. They are watching over you, and so will I.”  


 

  
Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. “Sir,” he choked out. “Sir, when you were…when you died….when I saw you…I felt…I felt like I never said things I should have, never let you know…” He trailed off, fighting the tears that were threatening to creep into his eyes.  
  


 

“Just because you never said anything does not mean I did not know it, Harry,” Dumbledore said solemnly.  
  


 

Harry shook his head. “No, sir…it’s not…it’s not enough. I wanted to tell you…how sorry I am for…for everything. I took my temper out on you, all the time…I doubted your judgement, over and over again…I never thanked you properly…I never told you…I never told you…”  
  


 

“You never told me what, Harry?” Dumbledore asked quietly.  
  


 

Harry swallowed. “That I…that I do care. And that I’m so grateful, grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve meant…you’ve meant a lot to me,” he whispered, looking away. “You’ve always been there, always listened, always given me your time…even now. Even now, you’ve managed to talk to me, you managed to be there. And I…I never got it. Today, when I found out that I was the sixth Horcrux…I yelled at your portrait,” he finished ashamedly.  
  


 

Dumbledore chuckled. “That is understandable, Harry. Did I shout back?” he asked, looking interested.  
  


 

“Er…no. You carried on sleeping,” he said, in a slightly accusing voice. Dumbledore chuckled again.   
  


 

“Oh dear. Well, I’ll do my utmost to wake up next time, Harry,” he said, smiling benignly. Harry managed to give him a weak grin.  
  


 

“Time is ticking, Harry, and doubtlessly Minerva wants her office back.” He peered behind Harry at the office. “Ah, I am glad she hasn’t got rid of my sweet jar,” he said happily, pointing at a pot of sweets on the desk. “I did tell her I would come and haunt her if she threw that out, however.” He turned back to Harry. “While we’re here, Harry, would you like me to pass on any messages to your parents, to Sirius?”  
  


 

Harry stared. “Er…tell them…tell them I said hi,” he said lamely, and Dumbledore chuckled again.  
  


 

“I will, Harry. Oh, I almost forgot to ask…how are things between you and Miss Weasley?”   


 

  
Harry looked at him slightly bashfully. “Well…er…we broke up.”  


 

  
“Really? I am surprised,” Dumbledore said disappointedly. “Would this decision have anything to do with your desire to ‘keep her safe’, Harry?”  
  


 

“Well…yeah,” Harry admitted grudgingly.  


 

  
Dumbledore shook his head pleasantly. “Ah, Harry…when will you learn? You must keep your friends close. It is your greatest strength - remember that. I hope you will rectify your mistake soon?”  
  


 

“Yeah, I will,” Harry said quickly. “Just…just when it’s over.”  
  


 

Dumbledore nodded. “Good.” They looked at each other in silence for a few moments. “I am very proud of you, Harry,” Dumbledore said suddenly, his voice quiet. “I hope you know that.”  
  


 

Harry nodded, his throat tight again. “Thank you, sir. And…thanks…for everything. I wouldn’t be here without you. I just…I just wanted to make sure you know that,” he said, tears springing into his eyes. He looked away and took a deep breath.  
  


 

“Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, “Harry, I must go now. You remember what I said about the Horcrux. Tell Severus…thank him. And let your friends in, Harry. You do them a dishonour by shutting them out.”   
  


 

Harry nodded, still unable to look at the Headmaster.  
  


 

“Goodbye, Harry.”  


 

  
“Wait!” Harry said, turning to face the Mirror again. “Wait…” He took a step closer. He could see himself reflected in Dumbledore’s glasses. “Sir…” He did not know what he wanted to say; his throat tightened and he knew he could not speak. He screwed his eyes up tightly. And then he felt it…a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flew open. Dumbledore’s hand was resting on his shoulder, the Mirror…the Mirror was gone…as was the office. There was nothing but white space, with Harry and Dumbledore standing in the middle of it. He looked at Dumbledore in amazement.   
  


 

“I did tell you I was an exceptionally clever wizard, Harry,” he said with a smile. Still Harry could not speak, and so he did the only thing he could; he flung his arms around the Headmaster and hugged him tightly, feeling the tears spill over his cheeks. For a second Dumbledore seemed too surprised to respond, and then he too wrapped his arms around Harry. He patted him gently on the back, calming him, as Harry fought to stop the tears from coming.  


 

  
“I have to go now, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “My time here is up.” Harry nodded and drew back, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve. He looked at the Headmaster helplessly. “This is not the end, Harry. You will see me again, and I want to hear all about your life…what it felt like to defeat Voldemort, how your Quidditch is going, whether yours and Miss Weasley’s children have red or black hair…” he smiled at Harry, and Harry laughed. Dumbledore was silent again, and then reached out a hand to Harry’s shoulder.  
  


 

“Goodbye, Harry,”  


 

  
“Goodbye, sir,” Harry whispered. He closed his eyes so he would not have to see Dumbledore disappear. When he opened them the office was back around him, and the Mirror was blank, apart from his startled reflection.   
  


 

The door clicked open and Professor McGonagall stepped in, looking cautious and rather unnerved. She looked at Harry, noticing his pale face and suspiciously bright eyes.  
  


 

“Are you okay, Potter?” she asked quietly. Harry nodded. McGonagall’s eyes flickered over the Mirror. “I thought I heard…as I came up the stairs…I thought I heard…”  
  


 

“You thought you heard what?” Harry said quickly.  


 

  
Professor McGonagall stared at him. “Albus,” she said simply. “I thought I heard Albus.”  


 

  
Harry paused, and then smiled faintly. “You did,” he said softly. “He says thanks for keeping his sweet jar on the desk, because now he doesn’t have to come and haunt you like he said.”   
  


 

Professor McGonagall stared at him. “How did you -” Her eyes passed over the Mirror again, and then something like a grin flickered over her usually stern face. “…the Mirror…” she breathed. She turned back to Harry.  
  


 

“How are you feeling now, Harry?”  
  


 

Harry was silent for a while, and then looked back at her. “I’m better, Professor,” he said quietly. “I’m a lot better now.”  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
_I do like this chapter…I love Dumbledore so much so it was lovely having him to write about again. It was also really nice to give Harry the chance to say what he wanted to say, and for them to say a final goodbye.  
I hope you enjoyed it too, and if you did, please review!!  
_


	36. The Dementor's Kiss

 

**36  
** ****

 

******The Dementor’s Kiss**   


 

 

“So, Potter,“ Snape began smoothly, “It appears that  a trip to Azkaban is imminent.”  


 

“Azkaban?” Harry repeated slowly, his insides beginning to writhe. “Er…why?”  


 

“Use what little brain you have,” Snape sneered. “If your only chance of survival is the Dementors kiss, then surely we will need a Dementor?”  


 

“Cant you bring one here?” Harry asked hopefully.  


 

“Don’t be stupid,” Snape said scornfully. “How am I going to bring one here? Most of them have sided with the Dark Lord, which means that the safest way for you to get near one would be to go Azkaban. Unless, of course, you would like to take your chances with the Dark Lord?”  


 

Harry scowled at him. “Fine, we’ll go to Azkaban. When d’you want to go?”  


 

Snape paused. “Perhaps in three days time. I think it is best to get this over as soon as possible, don’t you? After all, who knows what you could do, what with part of the Dark Lord’s soul being inside you.”  


 

“Yeah, alright…you’ve said that before, Snape,” Harry snapped, tired of Snape’s continuous provocations.  


 

“Incidentally, how did you come up with the idea of a Dementor’s kiss getting rid of the Horcrux, Potter? It seems rather too clever to be your idea. Was it Lupin’s?”  


 

Harry glared at him. “No.”  


 

“Then who’s idea was it? I am not a fool, Potter,” he continued softly when Harry did not reply. “I know it was not your idea.”  


 

“It was Dumbledore’s,” Harry muttered.  


 

Snape stared. “Dumbledore’s? Dumbledore is dead, Potter.”  


 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said irritably. “Because you killed him. Anyway, I spoke to him yesterday.”  


 

“Yesterday?”  


 

“Yeah. He charmed the Mirror of Erised before he died so that I could talk to him for half an hour,” Harry said quickly. He did not want to share the events of the previous night with anyone, particularly not Snape.  


 

“You talked to him? Yesterday?” Snape repeated, sounding slightly dumbfounded. “And…what did he say?”  


 

“We talked about the Horcruxes and he told me about the Dementors. He also…he also said to thank you for carrying out your side of the bargain,” Harry said grudgingly.  


 

“Did he?” Snape asked quietly, looking away. “What else did he say, Potter?”  


 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Harry replied curtly.  


 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “If you want me to prevent the Dementor from sucking your soul out, Potter, I would suggest that you learn some manners.”  


 

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to control his rising temper. He knew Snape was right. “Fine. He didn’t say anything else that concerns you,” he said stiffly. “Everything else is between me and him.”  


 

“What did he say?” Snape repeated, ignoring Harry.  


 

“Why are you so interested?” Harry said abruptly. Snape said nothing, but continued to stare at him. Harry sighed. “He just gave me some advice…and he said he was proud of me.” He glared at Snape, as if daring him to make a snide comment, but he did not.  


 

“Right. Well, be ready in three days time, Potter. I will let you know when to meet me - it will be in the morning sometime.”  


 

Harry nodded. “Okay. Er…do you…do you think, if the Horcrux is removed safely…do you think that I’ll be okay? I mean, I wont have any more visions, dreams, will I? He wont be able to attack my mind, make me angry and stuff…will he?”  


 

Snape paused. “I was wondering when you would ask me that,” he said quietly. “I do not know for certain, Potter, but I don’t think you will ever be ‘okay’.”  


 

Harry stared at him. “What do you mean?”  


 

Snape sighed rather impatiently. “Potter, the Dark Lord’s soul has been a part of you for nearly sixteen years. I am sure there will be elements that have seeped into your own soul slightly, things that will not change. For example, if the Horcrux is safely removed, I think you will still be able to speak Parseltongue. I think you will still be sensitive to his moods, his emotions - although not to the same extent. Because part of it is now ingrained in _you_.”  


 

Harry suppressed a shudder. “But…I wont be so angry, will I?”  


 

“Do you really think that every time you have been angry these last few years it has been because of the Dark Lord, Potter?” Snape said appraisingly. “I do not. You are angry because of yourself, because you have gone through things that would make some people… _weaker people_ ,” he said with a slight sneer, “resentful and angry. I think the fact that part of the Dark Lord is inside you is relatively irrelevant, although undoubtedly it would have increased the strength of your anger.”  


 

“I’m not weak,” Harry said in a dangerous voice, bristling over Snape’s comment.  


 

Snape ignored him. “I suggest you go and get some sleep now, Potter. You certainly look as though you need it.”  


 

* * *  


 

_Remus,_  
_We’re going to Azkaban in three days to do it. Do you still want to come? I don’t mind if you don’t - I wouldn’t want to go if it were me._  
_Send Hedwig back with your reply as soon as possible._  
_Harry  
_ __

 

___* * *  
_ __

 

___Dear Harry,_  
_It will be the full moon in three days time - I cannot come. Is there no way you can delay it another few days? I would feel a lot better about it if I was there. Please consider this carefully._  
_Remus  
_ __

 

___* * *  
_ __

 

___Remus,_  
_Sorry, no can do. It needs to be done as soon as possible. Don’t worry - I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when it’s done._  
_Harry_   


 

* * *  


 

 “Ron? Hermione? Er…can I have a word?” Harry said rather awkwardly, two days later. His friends stood up at once.  


 

“Sure, Harry,” Hermione said quickly, shooting him a smile. Harry knew they were anxious to hear anything he had to say these last few days, because they knew he was still keeping something from them. They followed him out of the common room and through the portrait hole, stopping outside an empty classroom. Harry led them in.  


 

“So what’s this about?” Ron said, trying to keep his face impassive.  


 

“A few things, really,” Harry said in a too-casual voice. “The first thing you should know is that I know what the sixth Horcrux is.”  


 

“Really?” Ron asked eagerly. “What is it?” Hermione was oddly silent, chewing the ends of her fingers.  


 

“I don’t want you to worry,” Harry said, “because it’s not necessarily a death sentence.”  


 

“ _Death sentence_? What do you mean?” Ron said blankly.  


 

“No,” Hermione whispered, staring at Harry.  


 

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. Hermione burst into hysterical tears, flinging her arms around Harry and sobbing on his shoulder. “Hermione…” Harry said helplessly, as her tears soaked through his shirt. “Look, it’s okay. We have a plan.”  


 

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, looking very worried. “Why are you crying, Hermione?”  


 

“It’s him,” she sobbed, her voice muffled. “It’s Harry. He’s the sixth Horcrux!”  


 

Ron turned to Harry in horror. “Harry… _what_ …?”  


 

Harry explained briefly, and then told them of his and Snape’s plan. Ron didn’t seem impressed.  


 

“That sounds bloody dangerous if you ask me. How do you know Snape’s going to stop the Dementor in time? He might let it take you.”  


 

“Ron, if Snape wanted me dead I would be dead by now. I have to trust him, I have to believe he’s on our side. What choice do I have?”  


 

“Let us come instead of him,” Ron said promptly, pulling Hermione off Harry’s shoulder and wrapping his own arms around her.  


 

“No,” Harry said firmly. “No way.” Before they could object he spoke again. “The other thing I wanted to tell you was that…I spoke to Dumbledore.” Ron and Hermione stared at him.  


 

“Harry…” Hermione said uneasily, “Dumbledore’s…well…he’s dead, Harry.”  


 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know, Hermione. I’m not _that_ crazy. No, he did a spell before he died in order for him to be able to speak to me for half an hour.” He explained to them about the instructions Dumbledore had left in his letter to Harry, the charm he had cast on the Mirror and what their conversation had involved. They were both silent for a while after he finished.  


 

“Harry, that’s incredibly sophisticated magic,” Hermione said breathlessly. “I didn’t even know that was possible…and to think, he did all that for you! Oh Harry!” She looked rather astounded.  


 

“What’s the big deal?” Harry asked. “He knew I would want to talk about the Horcruxes.”  


 

“Nah Harry, it wasn’t just about the Horcruxes though, was it? It was about you - he just wanted to say goodbye,” Ron said, sounding slightly awed. His face brightened. “Hey, I wonder what he left you in his will?”  


 

Harry frowned. “I doubt he would have left me anything.”  


 

“No, I think he would have, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “I mean, he didn’t have any family, did he? And who else would he have left it to.”  


 

“He had a brother,” Harry stated firmly. He felt strangely uneasy about the topic.  


 

“Yes, but I still think he would have left something to you,” Hermione said stubbornly.  


 

“I bet he was loaded!” Ron said excitedly. “I bet he left you all his gold! Wicked!”  


 

Harry glared at Ron. “He won’t have. And even if he has, I’m not going to take it.”  


 

“Are you mad?” Ron said dumbly.  


 

“I don’t want it and I don’t need it,” he said stiffly, looking away.  


 

“Anyway,” Hermione said hurriedly, sensing Harry’s temper rising, “I don’t think he was ‘loaded’ as you say, Ron. He was probably just _comfortable_.” Ron opened his mouth to argue but Harry glared him down.  


 

“Look, this is all beside the point,” he said loudly. “The main reason that I wanted to speak to you was to tell you that I’m going with Snape tomorrow. To Azkaban.” He paused rather awkwardly. “So I just…well, I just wanted to say…well, I just wanted to thank you both. For, you know…always being there. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, especially in the last couple of years - ”  


 

“You can say that again,” Ron muttered, and Harry gave him a sheepish grin.  


 

“Yeah, so…I just wanted to make sure you both knew that. I really appreciate it. I really do.” Ron and Hermione were silent.  


 

“Harry, what is this?” Ron asked quietly.  


 

“What’s what?”  


 

“Are you saying goodbye, Harry?” Hermione asked, her voice also dangerously quiet.  


 

“Er…no, I’m just…you know -”  


 

“Why are you suddenly telling us now?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowed. Harry shrugged.  


 

“Seemed like a good time.”  


 

“Harry, I hope to goodness that you’re not saying goodbye,” Hermione said in a strangled voice. “Because it’s not goodbye. You’re going to be fine. Don’t be so pessimistic.”  


 

“I’m not being pessimistic,” Harry snapped. “I’m being realistic. Even if tomorrow goes well and I’m fine, we both know that I’ll be lucky to get out of this alive. _It’s true_!” he said heatedly as both Ron and Hermione opened their mouths to protest. “Think how many times I’ve almost died! In the Chamber of Secrets, I would have died if Fawkes hadn’t healed the Basilisk’s bite! Those Dementors would have got me in the third year if we hadn’t used the time turners! The Triwizard Tournament - Voldemort would have killed me if I had left the graveyard a second later! He would have killed me again last year if Dumbledore hadn’t saved me! So many lucky escapes…it’s not going to happen forever! It’s the law of averages - you both know that. So I’m not giving up,” he said, his face red, “I’m just being prepared, okay? Now I‘m going to go to bed - I‘ve got a long day ahead of me.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the classroom, leaving behind a silent and stunned Ron and Hermione.  


 

* * *  


 

Harry crept out of the entrance hall, his eyes scanning his surroundings nervously, but there was no one about. The cold light of dawn gave off an eerie, mysterious feel, and Harry shivered. He walked quickly across the grounds, his right hand tightly clutching a folded up piece of parchment. He had spent the best part of an hour the previous night writing it. It was his will. Ron’s talk of Dumbledore’s will made Harry think about what would happen if he died. All the wealth he had accumulated - where would it go? He had thought long and hard about what to give to whom, but had finally come to a result he was satisfied with.  


 

__

 

___LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF HARRY JAMES POTTER  
_ __

 

___I, Harry James Potter, of Four, Privet Drive, being of sound mind and disposing memory,_ _do hereby make, publish and declare this instrument to be my last will and_  
_Testament._ _I should also like to make it known that I would like to be buried beside my parents, at Godric’s Hollow.  
_ __

 

___To the Weasley family, I leave four hundred thousand galleons, to be divided up between you all; it is half of the gold in the Potter and Black family vaults, and I expect a lot more Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products as a result of this. I would like to take this opportunity to express my great gratitude to the Weasleys for embracing me into their wonderful family, and for their consistent warmth and support. I will never forget you.  
_ __

 

___To Remus John Lupin, the last true Marauder, I leave four hundred thousand galleons: the other half of the Potter and Black family vaults. I also leave Twelve, Grimmauld Place - I remember you once told me that it is hard for a werewolf to find suitable lodgings, so I hope it will be adequate. However, this is only on the condition that you find some way to remove the portrait of Sirius’s mother. Thank you for your support and kindness over the years.  
_ __

 

___To Ronald Weasley, I also leave my firebolt. It’s about time you had a decent broom, and I can think of no one worthier of it than you. I also leave the Marauder’s Map. I know you will find a use for it. You have always been a true and loyal friend, and I cannot imagine what my life would have been like had you not sat in my carriage on that first Hogwarts Express journey.  
_ __

 

___To Hermione Jane Granger, I leave my owl Hedwig. I know you will take great care of her, and I’m sure she will get along perfectly with Crookshanks. Hermione - what can I say? I doubt I’d have made it through my first year if it hadn’t been for you. Thank you for your loyalty, honesty and advice. You are a true friend.  
_ __

 

___To Ginevra Molly Weasley, I leave my invisibility cloak. I could think of nothing to give you that seemed appropriate, but the cloak was my dad’s and is very special to me. I would not want to leave it to anyone but you.  
_ __

 

___To Rubeus Hagrid, I leave possession of the hippogriff Buckbeak. Sirius only owned him through you, so it is time he was returned to his rightful owner. Thanks for being there, from the very beginning.  
_ __

 

____

 

Harry hadn’t been sure how to finish it, so he’d just left it. He tucked it into his pocket and raised his hand unconsciously to his forehead, tracing the thin jagged line of his scar restlessly. Ever since he had realised what it represented, Harry had developed the habit of consistently touching his scar. He didn’t realise he was doing it, and would only stop when someone shot him an odd look. He was fascinated by it - horrified by it, appalled by it. Whenever he looked in the mirror his eyes were irresistibly drawn to his forehead; he would stare at his scar in the mirror for long periods of time, his eyes darting from one end to the other. He felt somehow contaminated, dirty; part of him longed to be rid of whatever it was inside him, but the other part (Harry hoped it was the part of Voldemort) didn’t want it to go. Who would he be when it was taken out? Would he still be the same Harry? Would he lose any of the abilities he had gained from Voldemort if the Horcrux was extracted? He reached the Whomping Willow and hurried down the hole, his heart pounding irrationally. Snape was already waiting in the room, his back turned. He spun around as Harry entered, his eyes flickering over Harry’s pale face and slightly inflamed scar.  


 

“Are you ready, Potter?” he asked crisply. Harry nodded, his mouth dry. “Good. We will have to apparate from Hogsmeade, the anti-apparition wards are still in place here.”  


 

“I can’t apparate,” Harry said anxiously, his fingers still tracing his scar. Snape noticed and gave him a slightly peculiar look. Harry stopped at once.  
 __

 

__“I am aware of that, Potter. You will have to apparate along with me.”  


 

“Do we apparate straight into Azkaban?” Harry asked nervously. Snape looked at him as though he had said something ridiculous.  


 

“Of course we don’t - Azkaban is an anti-apparition zone, Potter. Can you imagine what it would be like if it wasn’t? Prisoners would be apparating out as soon as they were locked up.”  


 

“Well how are we going to get there then?” Harry said crossly.  


 

“We apparate to the northern most part of Britain, where we will take a boat to Azkaban.”  


 

“And how long will that take?”  


 

“I don’t know, Potter. I have never taken this journey before. Come on now - we need to make a move.” Without waiting for Harry to reply he hurried out of the room. Harry followed, and they left the Shrieking Shack and quickly crossed the field that separated them from Hogsmeade. It was still very early and nobody was about.  


 

“Right,” Snape began after checking their surroundings, “You will need to grip my arm firmly, Potter.” Harry grudgingly came closer and clasped Snape’s forearm. “Tighter. Are you ready?” Harry nodded that he was, although he certainly didn’t feel ready. He closed his eyes and felt an intense constricting sensation pass along his body, as though he were being squeezed through a very narrow, tight passageway. The sensation passed after a few seconds, and he opened his eyes warily. They were standing on a small, rocky beach. The sea looked dark and menacing, waves crashing down noisily onto the stones. A light rain was falling, and although it was not that cold, Harry felt chilled to the bone.  


 

“Where’s the boat?” he asked Snape quietly, his eyes searching the choppy waters but seeing nothing.  


 

Snape gave him a disdainful look and took out his wand. He muttered something and gave it a wave, and immediately a small fishing boat appeared, bobbing precariously on the water. “There is our boat, Potter.”  


 

Harry stared. “That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “Er…can’t you get anything bigger?”  


 

“This is an Azkaban boat, Potter,” Snape said scornfully, beginning to walk towards it. “It is the only boat that is allowed to dock there. We do not have a choice.” They waded though the icy water to where the boat was moored. Harry shivered as the water hit his skin, and climbed quickly into the boat. It looked rickety and old, and the white paint had mostly peeled, exposing a greyish wood that was worryingly soft. Snape waved his wand again and the boat began to move, surprisingly quickly. The rain and spray lashed Harry’s face and he grimaced, tasting saltwater on his lips. They were silent as the boat sped towards its destination. Harry tried to keep the land in view but after only a few moments it was gone, and nothing else could be seen apart from the overcast sky and turbulent sea.  


 

Harry was not sure how long it was before he caught sight Azkaban, but he guessed it was about five hours. A craggy fortress stood on a small, rocky island, half obscured by a dense, heavy mist. It was possibly one of most depressing things Harry had ever seen. The closer they got to the island, the more miserable Harry felt. It was as though the island was draining him of every positive thought he had, of every hope and every dream. It must have shown on his face, because Snape looked at him rather apprehensively.  


 

“You need to focus on positive thoughts, Potter.”  


 

“I’m finding that rather hard right now,” Harry muttered. His breathing was loud and quick, and the cold, empty feeling that he associated with Dementors was spreading over him. He felt light-headed and weak, and closed his eyes. A sudden jolt made him open them a few moments later. The boat had hit the rocks of the island, and was now gliding in towards some worn stone steps that led from the water up to a narrow path. After a minute the boat stopped next to the steps, and Snape stepped smartly out.  


 

“Come on, Potter. We need to be quick about this. It will not do for us to be caught here.” Taking a deep breath Harry stood, swaying slightly in the boat. Snape gripped one of his arms and half dragged him up the stairs.  


 

“It’s the Dementors,” Harry breathed, trying to justify his sudden weakness.  


 

“I’m aware of what it is, Potter,” Snape said tersely. Harry noticed he had gone slightly pale himself. He led Harry up the stone steps and towards the fortress. A huge iron gate enclosed it, but Snape tapped the lock with his wand and murmured something, and it opened. They walked quickly up the winding stone path until they came to an archway, which seemed to lead inside the fortress. Harry made to go through but Snape held him back.  


 

“No, Potter. I do not think you should go in. I don’t think it will be safe for you.”  


 

“Then how…?”  


 

“I will go in and draw a Dementor out after me. One Dementor is a lot better than fifty. I do not think you will be able to cope if you go in.”  


 

Harry scowled. “Fine.” Although he secretly agreed with Snape, he did not like the way his former teacher was looking so pleased to be talking about his weaknesses. Without another word, Snape turned on his heel and strode through the archway. Harry leaned against the crumbling wall, feeling very groggy. His breathing felt somehow restricted, and he struggled for breath. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, and his hands began to feel clammy. He automatically raised a hand to his scar and rubbed it. It felt hot and seemed to pulsate beneath his fingers. And then the coldness seemed to overtake him completely; it was as though someone had shut the door on every happy memory he’d ever had, and was stirring around in those he dreaded most.  


 

“ _Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside!” A high, cold voice, malevolently amused.  
_ __

 

___“Not Harry, not Harry! Please not Harry!” His mother begging, pleading for his life.  
_ __

 

___“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! He’s here!” His father’s voice, urgent and strained._   


 

_“Wands out, d’you reckon?” Cedric’s nervous question as they landed in the graveyard.  
_ __

 

___“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius’s mocking voice before he fell through the veil.  
_ __

 

___“…Severus…” Dumbledore’s voice, calm and quiet, before he crumpled onto the grass._   


 

Harry felt his stomach jolt, and he opened his eyes with difficulty. Gliding towards him, only a few feet away, was a Dementor. Its hood was up but Harry could still hear the rattling of its breath, and smell its putrid stench. Snape…where was Snape? Harry looked desperately around but there was no one. Had he gone? Had he left? Was this his plan all along? Harry fumbled for his wand but his fingers were stiff with cold and he dropped it. It fell onto the stone floor with a clatter. Harry tried to bend down and pick it up but his body would not obey. He just stood there in horror, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. The Dementor stopped, about a foot from him. Harry blinked stupidly. He had to get out of here. Snape had gone, Snape had left him; there would be no one to stop the Dementor from taking his own soul as well as the Horcrux. His legs began to shake as the Dementor raised a skeletal hand towards its hood and began to lower it. Harry closed his eyes as his knees gave way and he collapsed on the ground. _Think happy thought_ , he commanded himself urgently. _Think positive_. But the thoughts would not come.  


 

He felt the Dementor’s breath on his cheek, felt its cold fingers on his chin, turning his face up towards its own. Harry let it, knowing he was unable to struggle anymore. The Dementor inhaled sharply, its breath rattling menacingly, and Harry felt the life slowly drain from him. He felt as though he was leaving his body, as if whatever it was that made him who he was - his personality, his memories…his soul - was escaping, fleeing his body. But instead of escaping it was being sucked inside the foulest of all creatures, stolen and forgotten forever.  


 

Harry gave up, his body becoming still and limp. The Dementor carried on, draining the soul from his body, draining the very life from him. And then suddenly, it stopped; it glided away in the other direction, drawing its hood back over his head. Harry lay there still, his eyes closed and his body unmoving. Whatever colour was left in his cheeks was draining quickly away, and his face was becoming more and more lifeless. A strange sense of peace seemed to fall, but Harry Potter did not wake. It seemed as though he never would. It seemed as though the Boy Who Lived had finally died.  


 

  



	37. Aftereffects

**37  
** ****

 

******Aftereffects**   


 

 

Severus Snape hurried towards the limp form of the young man that lay crumpled on the ground. The boy was lying on his back, his black hair contrasting against the shocking pallor of his skin. Snape shivered as he looked at the boy’s face. His eyes were open, but they stared blankly up, seeing nothing. They were dead eyes. Snape felt a horrible plunging sensation in his chest. _He had waited too long_. He had stood and watched from his hiding place, watching every thing that had happened. And he thought it had gone to plan. He had seen only one soul rise up from the boy’s mouth; a tiny glowing orb that hovered for a few seconds between Harry and the Dementor, before disappearing forever into the vacuum-like mouth. And then Snape had expelled the Dementor. _Only one soul had been taken_. But, Snape thought with a stab of horror, he had not known whether the two souls were connected or separate. He had gone by what the boy had told him, and the boy had listened to Dumbledore - the world’s greatest optimist. Dumbledore would not have let himself think that the two soul were entwined, he would never let himself think that there was no hope for Harry. Snape groaned - he had been such a fool. He should have made sure, he should have checked somehow. He tried to pull the boy up into a sitting position but he was surprisingly heavy.  


 

“Potter? Potter?” His voice sounded horribly loud as he shook Harry’s shoulders, “Harry?” The boy did not move, but Snape thought he saw something flicker behind his vacant green eyes; a shadow of something, a glimmer of life. “Potter?” He pulled Harry up again, and stared into his face. Harry blinked slowly and Snape breathed a sigh of relief. “Potter, can you hear me?” Harry just stared at him, and Snape felt his insides twist. Had his soul been taken? Was he just a shell of his former self, an empty case, void of any feeling or emotion? He dragged Harry to his feet and pulled him along the pathway. “We need to get you out of here.”  


 

He hurried towards the boat as fast as he could, although he was slowed by Harry’s dead weight. He practically threw the boy into the boat and clambered in after him.  
The boat began to glide quickly away, and Snape exhaled loudly. He pulled Harry up into a sitting position again, and drew something out of his robes.  


 

“Here, Potter. Eat this.” He thrust something into the boy’s limp hands, wrapping his fingers around it to stop it falling straight out. “It’s chocolate.” Something must have registered with the boy, because he looked up slightly and muttered something. “What did you say, Potter?”   


 

“That’s what…Lupin…” Harry murmured, closing his fingers around the bar of chocolate.  


 

“Yes, Lupin gave you chocolate too, I know,” Snape said irritably, his relief that the boy‘s soul was not taken him making him snappy. “You should know to eat it then, shouldn’t you?”  


 

Harry raised a shaking hand to his mouth and managed to bite off a small piece of chocolate. He felt the familiar sense of warmth envelope him, although he still felt incredibly drained. He let his eyes close and leaned back against the side of the boat.  


 

“No, Potter,” Snape said sharply, “you must not sleep. Keep eating, and keep upright. It is imperative that you do not sleep.”  


 

As the journey progressed, some colour returned to Harry’s face, although he was still worryingly unresponsive. Snape kept talking to him, trying to engage him in conversation, but the boy could only manage a few words before his voice gave out and he slumped back on to the side of the boat. The journey seemed to take even longer than before, and the sky was already darkening when the boat finally nudged the mainland. Snape jumped up immediately, a look of alarm crossing his face as he realised that Harry had fallen asleep.  


 

“Potter, wake up!” he barked, shaking him violently. Harry groaned quietly and opened his eyes. “Come on, Potter. We need to get you back to school as soon as possible. You need to go to the hospital wing.” He pulled Harry up by his shoulders and dragged him off the boat. “Hold on to me. _Hold on to me_ , Potter!” he snapped, and Harry slowly gripped his arm. “I’m going to apparate to Hogsmeade now. You need to hold on tightly - now is not the best time to get splinched.”  


 

Harry gripped Snape’s arm as tightly as he could, although he didn’t feel it was tight enough. He closed his eyes as the constricting sensation passed over him, only opening when Snape began to move again. To his intense relief he saw that they were in Hogsmeade, and he stumbled after Snape. His legs seemed to be made of lead, however, and he had to lean against a wall. Snape turned and stopped, walking back over to Harry.  


 

“How do you feel, Potter?” he asked sharply.  


 

“Bad,” Harry managed to murmur. Snape sighed and quickly conjured up a stretcher.  


 

“Get on,” he ordered brusquely, and Harry did as he was told, sinking down gratefully as he closed his eyes. Snape’s eyes lingered over Harry’s face as the boy floated next to him, apparently asleep again. He was deathly pale and trembling slightly, but what worried Snape was the fact that his scar looked incredibly inflamed and red. What did that mean? Had it worked, and had the Horcrux gone? Or was it still there? He frowned to himself as they entered the Shrieking Shack, and he placed Harry on the floor surprisingly gently. What was he meant to do now? Potter needed to go to the hospital wing, and urgently, but he was hardly in a state to walk there himself. On the other hand, Snape was still blamed for Dumbledore’s death, and walking into Hogwarts would certainly mean immediate arrest, even if Harry was to support his story. Snape sighed rather angrily. There was only one thing to be done.  


 

* * *  


 

Hermione shivered slightly and drew closer to Ron. They were sat in the common room, Ron on an armchair and Hermione in his lap. Usually Ron would be wearing a rather smug expression, but this time he was wearing an anxious and frightened one, one that was mirrored in Hermione’s face.  


 

“Do you think he’s okay, Ron?” she asked quietly, tugging at a length of loose wool in her jumper.  


 

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Ron said honestly, pulling her hands away and wrapping his own around them. “He usually is though, isn’t he?”  


 

Hermione nodded miserably. “Yes, he is. Didn’t that make you think – what he said yesterday? About the law of averages? About his having so many near misses that someday it’s not going to…well, he will…you know what I mean, Ron.”  


 

Ron swallowed, torn between admitting his own fear at what Harry had said, and his desire to comfort the girl he loved. He decided on the latter. “No, Hermione. I mean, yeah, he has been lucky. But he’s the Boy Who Lived, isn’t he? He’s Harry bloody Potter!” He fixed what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face. “Come on, if Dumbledore suggested it, it’s got to be okay.”  


 

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose so. But what if –“ She stopped suddenly, her body stiffening. “Oh my…” She put a hand over her mouth, sitting up straight.  


 

“Hermione?” Ron asked worriedly, trying to turn her face towards his. “Hermione, what is it?”  


 

She stayed like that for a few moments, and then relaxed. “It’s okay, Ron. I’m fine.” She stood up, extending her hand to indicate that he should stand too. “It was Snape,” she said rather breathlessly as he stood up next to her.  


 

“Snape? What d’you mean?” Ron asked blankly.  


 

“We have to go to the Shrieking Shack! It’s Harry!” she said, in an unusually high voice, that caused Neville to look up from his chess game and look at her curiously. She lowered her voice hastily. “Snape just spoke to me. In my head, you know…like he used to do to Harry.”  


 

“Occlumency,” Ron said knowingly, nodding his head.  


 

“Legilimency,” Hermione corrected. Ron scowled.  


 

* * *  


 

“Ah, there you both are,” Snape said tersely, as Hermione and Ron clattered into the room upstairs ten minutes later. “You took your time.”  


 

“The stupid tree wouldn’t stop trying to hit us,” Ron said angrily. It felt strange to be seeing Snape again, and his nerves were showing through his anger. “Where’s Harry?”  


 

Snape stepped smartly aside, indicating the stretcher behind him. “There,” he said simply. Ron and Hermione both rushed towards it, falling to their knees next to Harry. Ron gasped at how pale and ill-looking he was, and Hermione flinched as she noticed his inflamed scar. She reached out a hand tentatively to touch it, but drew it back as soon as her fingers made contact.  


 

“It’s so hot!” she gasped, sucking her fingers. She held out her hand a moment later; there was a distinct burn mark across the fingers which had touched Harry’s scar.  


 

“Let me see,” Snape ordered, taking her palm and examining it. He was silent, his dark eyes flicking from Hermione’s burn to Harry’s scar.  


 

“What does it mean?” Ron asked, snatching Hermione’s hand away from Snape as though his touching her offended him. “Why is his scar so hot?”  


 

“Does it mean it’s worked?” Hermione asked, feeling Harry’s clammy cheek with her uninjured hand. He was asleep, still trembling slightly and taking quick, shallow breaths.  


 

“Yes, I do believe it does,” Snape mused, looking back at Harry. “Professor Dumbledore informed me that the other Horcruxes – the ring, the cup and the locket – were all too hot to handle for a while after he had extracted the fragment of soul. I think the same thing is happening with Potter.”  


 

“Why’s he like this?” Ron said accusingly, looking up at Snape. “What happened to make him so ill?”  


 

“Do not make the mistake of assuming that the Dementor’s kiss is a pleasant experience, Weasley,” Snape sneered. “Potter is probably the only person ever to have experienced it and still have his soul remaining. However, it would still undoubtedly affect him in various ways.”  


 

“What ways?” Hermione said quickly, looking at Snape with fear in her eyes.  


 

Snape paused. “Well,” he began slowly, “I cannot say with certainty, since there has never been a case like this before. But I would presume that Potter will be considerably weakened for a while, possibly a period of days, perhaps weeks.”  
   
“Weeks?” Ron echoed in disbelief. Snape ignored him.  


 

“He may feel depressed, lethargic and detached - the usual effects of contact with Dementors.”  


 

“Great,” Ron said glumly. “A depressed Harry. Just what we need.”  


 

Hermione shushed him angrily. “Do you think there may be any other effects, Professor?”  


 

Snape rubbed his chin, his eyes still locked onto the limp form of Harry. “It is only a guess,” he said slowly, “but perhaps…depending on how affected Potter is…there may be a loss of magical power.” Ron and Hermione stared in horror.  


 

“But…that would be temporary, wouldn’t it?” Hermione whispered. “I mean…it wouldn’t be a _permanent loss_ , would it?”  


 

“I cannot say, Miss Granger. As I already stated, these are only guesses. There has never been a situation like this before. I would suggest that you both take Potter up to the hospital wing immediately, and perhaps send an owl to Lupin. He is the only person other than the four of us in this room who knew what we were planning.”  


 

Ron and Hermione nodded and stood back up. Ron flicked his wand and Harry floated back up into the air, his head hanging limply down. Ron flinched, and turned his back.  


 

“Come on, Hermione. Let’s go.”  


 

* * *  


 

 

“Weasley, Granger, what are you doing outside so late?” Professor McGonagall asked as Hermione and Ron hurried through the entrance hall a few minutes later. “And what’s that behind you?” She peered behind them, her eyes widening as she recognized Harry’s lifeless body on the floating stretcher. “Is that Potter? Is he…what happened?”  


 

“He’s fine, Professor, really,” Hermione said earnestly, not slowing her pace. “He just needs to go to the hospital wing.” She and Ron proceeded quickly down the corridor and up the stairs, Professor McGonagall hurrying shakily after them. They practically burst into the hospital wing, which was empty apart from a small boy who was having an apparently uncontrollable nosebleed. He was holding a large bucket under his face, but looked up cheerily as the four entered.  


 

“It’s Harry Potter!” he breathed excitedly as Harry’s body floated past him, causing droplets of blood to spray over Ron. “And he’s dead!”  


 

“He’s not dead, midget!” Ron snapped, vanishing the blood from his robes. Madam Pomfrey hurried in as Harry was lowered onto the nearest bed.  


 

“Oh dear, dear. What’s happened here?” She stopped as she recognised Harry. “I might have guessed it would be him,” she said grimly, bending over him. She straightened up almost at once. “What happened?” she asked sharply. Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably.  


 

“There was…there was an incident,” Ron said, trying to sound casual.  


 

“I need you to be more specific,” Madam Pomfrey snapped. “Potter is in a very bad state.”  


 

“Well he, er…he had a bit of a run in with a Dementor,” Ron said quickly.  


 

“A Dementor?” Professor McGonagall breathed, but Madam Pomfrey did not look surprised.  


 

“Yes, I thought as much,” she said dourly. “And what kind of ‘run in’ might that have been, Mr. Weasley?” Ron looked at Hermione helplessly.  


 

“A Dementor performed the kiss on him, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said swiftly. Ron stared at her in horror.  


 

“Hermione! You’re not meant to tell them!”  


 

“They need to know!” Hermione snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “Harry’s life is worth more than a secret!”  


 

“I know that,” Ron said angrily, “but he was so specific about not telling anyone! You heard what he said!”  


 

“I haven’t told them anything _important_! I just said what happened to him!”  
   
“Unless you both stop bickering I will have to ask you to leave,” Madam Pomfrey said crisply, feeling Harry’s pulse.  


 

“Potter had the kiss performed on him?” Professor said in horror, shaking slightly. “But then he’s…”  


 

“It didn’t work,” Hermione said hurriedly. “The Dementor…er… _left_ before it could finish it. So he’s still got his soul, it’s okay.”  


 

“Well, he may have his soul but he most certainly is not okay,” Madam Pomfrey said, drawing the bed covers up to Harry’s chest. “He will need peace, quiet and a lot of rest if he is to recover.”  


 

“So he will recover then?” Ron asked quickly.  


 

“I certainly hope so, although it will take time.”  


 

“He won’t, you know…loose his powers or anything, will he?”  


 

Madam Pomfrey frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a case like this before. Why, who told you that?”  


 

“Sna-…er, nobody,” Ron said hastily, going rather red. “I just thought, you know, it might happen.”  


 

Madam Pomfrey did not look convinced, but did not press the matter. “In that case, I would suggest that you both leave Mr Potter now. He needs his rest. You can come in and see him tomorrow.” Ron and Hermione nodded dutifully, and left the room, their hands joined tightly together.  


 

 

A few hours later, when night-time had fallen and the hospital wing was in darkness, a small figure pushed open the door and crept in. Ginny tiptoed towards the nearest bed, the bed she knew Harry was in. She perched lightly on the side of it, her eyes slowing adjusting to the blackness. Harry was lying on his side, his mouth slightly open and his face still pale. Ginny reached a hand out cautiously to his scar. It was still hot, but it did not scald her. She brushed his hair back from his face, leaning down and kissing him lightly on the lips.  


 

“I love you, Harry,” she whispered. Harry stirred slightly, but did not wake. Ginny smiled faintly. “I suppose you must be ill if you’re not trying to take advantage of the fact that we have a dark room all to ourselves.” Harry muttered something incomprehensible and turned onto his back. “Come back now, Harry,” Ginny whispered softly, stroking his cheek. “Come back to us now. We need you, remember? _I_ need you.” She stayed there for a while longer, simply looking at him and stroking his face. After a while she got up, creeping across the room and shutting the door behind her. Harry slept on, oblivious, his mind filled with bobbing boats, dark clouds and horrific, vacuum-like mouths.  


 

 

  
 

 

 

_Okay guys, now is the time where I need your opinions more than ever. I have planned out two endings, both of which I think (or hope!) are equally effective. In one of them, Harry survives…and in the other, he doesn’t. This is mainly because I’m still not sure what I think will happen in book 7. Sometimes I’m utterly convinced that he will die, other times I don’t think J.K would do it. So it’s down to you, my lovely readers!_  
_Do you want him to live, or to die?? What will make a better story? What do you think will happen in book 7?Your opinions really matter to me, so PLEASE, PLEASE review, and let me know what you think._  
_Thanks a lot!_  
_Selene_ _J_   


 

  



	38. Draco's Desertion

**38**

****

****

****

**Dra** **co’s Desertion  
**  

Remus Lupin stepped into the upstairs room of the Shrieking Shack, brushing his prematurely grey hair off his face. “Severus,” he said rather stiffly, acknowledging the tall, thin man in the corner. Snape turned around, his face set.  
 

 

“Remus,” he said lazily, letting his eyes flicker over Remus’s tattered robes. “You’ve heard from Potter, I presume? How is he?”  
 

 

“He hasn’t woken yet,” Remus said heavily. “Madam Pomfrey is hopeful that he will wake soon, though. He seems to be responding well to the potions she’s been giving him.” Snape nodded but did not speak. “Severus, the main reason why I asked you here tonight is to suggest that you rejoin the Order. You have always been a much needed – and valued – member.”  
 

 

Snape stared at Remus. “I am wanted for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, Lupin. The Order is hardly going to welcome me back with open arms.”  
 

 

“I will tell them what really happened,” Remus said, slightly impatiently. “And I’m sure Harry will back you up.”   
 

 

Snape looked doubtful but did not argue. “Very well, you can expect my arrival tomorrow evening. There is a matter that I wish to discuss, however.”   
 

 

“And what’s that?” Remus asked guardedly.  
 

 

“It concerns the Malfoys, Remus,” Snape said smoothly. “Perhaps you should take a seat.”  
 

 

* * *  
 

 

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke was how cold he felt. Without opening his eyes he fumbled for his bed covers, drawing them up to his chin.  
 

 

“Harry?” a voice asked breathlessly. Harry recognised it but couldn’t figure out to whom it belonged. He opened his eyes slowly. A blurry face was a few inches in front of his; a face framed with red hair.  
 

“Ron?” he croaked, and something hit his shoulder gently.  
 

“I’m not Ron, you idiot!”  
 

Harry struggled to sit up, blinking to clear his vision. “Ginny!” he said, as her face came into focus. She was smiling at him, but looked pale and tired. “You look awful, Gin. Are you alright?” She stared at him in silence for a few moment and then began to laugh. “What?” Harry asked, confused.  
 

“Oh, Harry. You’re too much,” she giggled. “You finally come around after having the Dementor’s kiss performed on you, and you ask me if I’m alright because I might look a bit tired!”  
 

“Well, you do!” Harry protested, sitting up straight.  
 

“I don’t look half as bad as you,” Ginny shot back, handing him a mirror.  
 

“I don’t want to see,” Harry groaned, but Ginny held it up anyway and he reluctantly peered in. “My scar,” he whispered, raising a hand to his forehead. It was still rather warm, but what struck Harry the most was the fact that it was bright red and inflamed.  
 

 

“I know,” Ginny said with a nod. “Apparently that means it worked. The kiss, I mean. The fact that your scar is swollen means that the fragment of soul was extracted. You’re okay. Madam Pomfrey says it will go down.”  
 

Harry nodded and tore his eyes away from his scar, resisting the urge the touch it again. He looked at Ginny. “Ginny,” he said slowly, looking into her deep brown eyes, “I was thinking…”  
 

 

“Really, Harry?” Ginny said teasingly. “That makes a change.”  
 

Harry smiled. “After the Dementor, you know…did the kiss, I remember lying in the boat. And I was so tired, all I wanted to do was to close my eyes and sleep, but Snape kept talking to me, telling me I shouldn’t.” Ginny nodded to imply he should continue. “Well, I just remember thinking that if this was it…if it had gone wrong and I wouldn’t make it…I remember thinking that I’d been such an idiot. For ending what we had.” He swallowed and looked away. “When we were together, Gin, I felt…I felt different. Stronger. I just remember thinking that if this was the end, if I died, you would never know that I felt that. And something Dumbledore used to tell me over and over again kept going round and round in my head; _keep your friends close_. And I know I haven’t, I know I’ve done the opposite really, but I was just because I didn’t want to put you – and Ron and Hermione – in danger. You don’t need me to tell you how dangerous it is to be close to me. And I kind of felt…that I didn’t deserve the happiness I had with you, because of everything I’d done, everyone I’d hurt.” He swallowed again and looked at the floor.   
 

“Harry,” Ginny said gently, “I really don’t understand how someone so powerful and so brave can be so incredibly, mind-numbingly _stupid_.” She gave his arm a little shake and he looked back up at her. “You – out of everyone – deserve all the happiness in the world. You have never done anything wrong, and you have been through more than any of us. And you still haven’t given up, you’re still one hundred percent committed to finishing this. The fact that you pushed us away proved that. With you, nothing can even come close to being more important than destroying You-Know-Who, and although it can be bloody annoying, we all understand. We’re prepared to come second to that, Harry, but not third. You need us as much we need you – and you know just how much we need you; how much _the world_ needs you.”  
 

 

Harry nodded, and the two sat in silence for a few moments. Harry reached out a hand and took Ginny’s in his. “Do you know what Dumbledore told me my greatest weapon was?” Ginny shook her head. “He said it was love. I still don’t know completely what that means, but I know one thing. I love you, Ginny Weasley, and I want to be with you. Can you…d’you think you can forgive me for being such an idiot?”  
 

Ginny smiled and pulled Harry into a hug. “Well, it’s a tough one, Harry, but I think I might just be able to manage it.” She reached towards the table next to the bed and handed him a vial of dark green potion. “Drink this,” she ordered, handing it to him. “Madam Pomfrey’s orders.” Harry glugged it down and drew Ginny in for a kiss.   
 

* * *  
 

 

“Come on, Harry!” Ron said impatiently, giving his bag a kick. “Get a move on!” It was a Friday afternoon and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were going back to Grimmauld Place for the weekend. The headquarters had been moved back there from The Burrow after Remus, Mr Weasley and Moody had ensured that new charms were in place and that the Fidelius Charm was remade – this time it was Professor McGonagall who was the secret keeper.  
 

 

“Alright, alright,” Harry said with a grin, deliberately taking even longer to pack his bag, knowing it would annoy Ron. He had left the hospital wing the day before, after spending five days there. “Okay, let’s go then.”  
 

The four stumbled out of the fireplace ten minutes later, and were greeted by a tearful Mrs Weasley, who gave all four her usual bone-crushing hug. She reached Harry last and studied him for a while after she had finished hugging him.  
 

“Oh Harry,” she said sadly, taking in his pale face and red, angry scar. “What do you look like? Whatever have you been up to? Minerva said none of you would tell her what happened, and Remus here says he doesn’t know either!” Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat by the table and avoided Harry’s eyes. “Minerva said something about a Dementor, but what you were doing near a Dementor I don’t know! Harry, I demand an explanation!”  
 

“Er,” Harry began awkwardly, trying not to notice the curious looks that Fred, George, Bill and Charlie were sending him. “Nothing happened, Mrs Weasley,” he said, pretending to be engrossed in brushing away a speck of soot on his sleeve.  
 

Mrs Weasley sniffed. “Well, I can’t make you tell me, but I can make you rest. Madam Pomfrey has given me all the instructions regarding your potions, and she also informed me that you must have regular naps to regain your strength. So come on now, bed!”  
 

Harry stared at her. “Er, Mrs Weasley…it’s half past four.”  
 

“Well you can come down later, can’t you! I’ll give you a call when dinner’s ready. Chop chop!”  
 

“But I’m not tired!” Harry protested, but it was to no avail. Mrs Weasley gripped his arm firmly and began to march him through the kitchen, ignoring the sniggering coming from Fred and George.  
 

“Erm, Molly, perhaps Harry should stay for a moment longer,” Remus said hastily, standing up. “There’s something I would like to talk to him about first.”

“Whatever it is can wait, Remus,” Mrs Weasley replied resolutely. “Harry will be down in a few hours, you can talk to him then.” Remus sat back down again with the air of someone who knew when he was beaten.   
 

“There you go, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley said kindly a minute later, handing him his vial of potion. Harry swallowed it dutifully and she beamed. “There, your cheeks are turning pink again already!” she said, pinching one of his cheeks fondly. “Such a handsome boy!” Her eyes flicked over his scar and she frowned, brushing his hair over it. “There, that’s better. You’re to sleep now, Harry.”  
 

 

“Okay, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said resignedly, settling back on his pillows. Against his will he felt his eyes begin to turn heavy, and to his surprise – and disgust – the next thing he recalled was Mrs Weasley’s voice calling him down for dinner a few hours later. He splashed a bit of water onto his face to wake him up and walked down the stairs. Halfway down the hall, however, he stopped. He had just heard a voice; a voice he had not heard for a while, a voice that made his blood boil with rage. He burst into the kitchen, his wand aloft. Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were sitting at the long wooden table, their sleek blonde hair and pale complexions looking horribly out of place among the red hair and freckles of the Weasleys. Snape was also sat at the table, his arms folded and his face wearing a bored expression.  
 

“You!” Harry snarled at Malfoy, who immediately jumped out of his seat and drew his own wand. “What the hell are you doing here? Voldemort decided he doesn’t want you on his team all?” Malfoy said nothing, but two pink spots appeared on his cheeks.   
 

 

“Harry, sit down!” Remus said vehemently, putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry shrugged them off angrily. 

  
 

“He tried to kill Dumbledore!” he snarled, grabbing Malfoy’s collar and pinning him against the wall. “You’re a coward! How dare you come here after all you’ve done?”  
 

“Trust me, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, “I assure that this place is not where I want to be right now. Eating dinner with Blood-traitors and Mudbloods is not my idea of fun.”  
 

Harry stabbed his wand into Malfoy’s neck. “Get out,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Get out of my house.”  
 

“Harry, Draco cannot leave,” Remus said heavily, trying to pull Harry away. “if any of Voldemort’s supporters see him, he will be killed instantly.”  
 

 

 “Oh no!” Harry said sarcastically. “What, like that’s supposed to bother me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he said accusingly, to no one in particular. Then he whirled round to face Remus. “Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”  
 

“Harry, I tried,” Remus said wearily, “when you first arrived, I asked to speak to you. But Molly insisted you need to have a nap.”  
 

 

“ _A nap_?” Malfoy said delightedly. “What are you, three?” Harry pushed his wand deeper into Malfoy’s throat and he winced.  
 

 

“Potter, _sit down_ ,” Snape said suddenly. “There is a reason why Draco and his mother are here, and I suggest that you unhand him and listen to it.”   
 

Harry sat down reluctantly, still breathing heavily. “Well?” he said to Snape.  
 

“It is not my story to tell,” Snape said simply. “Draco, if you will…”  
 

Malfoy glared at Snape and than at Harry. “Fine.” He took a deep breath. “The Dark Lord gave me the task of killing Dumbledore. He told me specifically that it was my task, mine to do alone, and that I had to obey him.” He glared again at Snape, who looked faintly amused. “Anyway, it didn’t go to plan. When we fled Hogwarts after Snape killed him, the Dark Lord was not happy. He said that I’d failed and he…he tortured me.” He flushed slightly, although Harry wasn’t sure whether it was from shame or fear. “My mother entreated him to stop…she said he would kill me. The Dark Lord said that I deserved it – that the punishment for failing him was death. I knew he was going to kill me, if not that day then the one after, or the one after that. Mother and I fled that night and went into hiding. Snape found us a few days later and kept us informed about what was going on, and brought us food and water. But after the recent mass breakout at Azkaban, he said it wasn’t safe to stay there; he said we must find somewhere safer to hide, somewhere the Dark Lord would never think of looking. So he told us to come here.”  
 

“Did he now?” Harry said icily, scowling at Snape. “I wasn’t aware that the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had suddenly become a safe house for unwanted Death Eaters.”  
 

“He would have killed us, Potter!” Malfoy said angrily. “You don’t know what he’s capable of!”  
 

“I am perfectly aware of what Voldemort is capable of, thank you very much,” Harry said coldly. There was a short silence. “I still don’t know why you’re here. So you’re on the run, fine. I’m sure there are plenty of other places to hide.”  
 

“Mr Potter,” Narcissa Malfoy said coolly, speaking for the first time. “It is not as simple as that.”  
 

“Isn’t it?” Harry said, glaring at her angrily.  
 

“No, it is not. In terms of the Dark Lord, you are either with him or against him.  We are now against him, and where better to go than to the Order of the Phoenix.”  
 

“You really expect me to believe that?” Harry said scornfully. “The Malfoys have dedicated their whole lives to Voldemort. Do you really expect me to believe that you’ve suddenly changed your mind?”  
 

Narcissa paused. She looked paler and thinner than usual, although she still managed to look haughty and well-kept. Malfoy too looked thinner, Harry realised with pleasure. His cheeks were hollowed and there were dark circles under his cold eyes. “Before I was a Malfoy, I was a Black, Potter.”   
 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry snarled, feeling himself bristle at the thought that she was related to Sirius.  
 

“The Black family, however much they agreed and sympathised with what the Dark Lord was doing, have never been as intense in their support as the Malfoy family. When I married Lucius -” She broke off and looked away.  
 

“Yeah, where is he anyway? Lucius Malfoy,” Harry spat. “I quite fancy a word with him. Didn’t he escape from Azkaban too?” Malfoy darted a look at his mother, and she licked her lips nervously.  
 

“Lucius did escape from Azkaban,” she said calmly, looking fixedly ahead of her. “He rejoined the Dark Lord’s ranks immediately. He remains there now.”  
 

“He didn’t come with you when you ran away?”  
 

Narcissa took a deep breath. “It was the Dark Lord’s wish that Draco would be killed. And he wanted to Lucius to be the one to do it.”  
 

“But…he wouldn’t have, would he?” Harry asked incredulously, his eyes darting from Malfoy to Narcissa. “He wouldn’t kill his own son?” The silence from Malfoy and his mother indicated that they thought he would.  
 

“That was another reason I wanted to break ranks with the Dark Lord, Potter,” Narcissa said quietly. “When he first gave Draco his mission, I begged him to reconsider. I told him that Draco was still a child, he could not be entrusted with such a task.”  
 

 

“I’m not a child, Mother,” Malfoy muttered irritably. Narcissa ignored him.  
 

 

“The Dark Lord did not take pity. On the contrary, he seemed pleased that I was so worried, pleased to think that Draco would almost certainly fail.”  
 

 

“Of course he was pleased!” Harry spat. “Don’t tell me you’ve only realised what kind of person Voldemort is now. Don’t tell me you thought he was some kind of nice, thoughtful person who cared about people’s families!”  
 

“I did not think that, Potter,” Narcissa said smoothly. “However, I did think that he might show some kind of…loyalty…to those who have always been loyal to him.” Harry snorted. “The Dark Lord has a way of penetrating people’s minds, getting them to things they would never usually do. I am not sure to whom Lucius is loyal to now.”  
 

“It seems pretty damn obvious who he’s loyal to now,” Harry said. “If he was loyal to you, _his family_ , he’d be sitting here with you. But he’s not. He’s chosen Voldemort, and he stays with him.” There was a long silence, and Malfoy looked down at the plate in front of him. Harry felt a strange twinge of pity for the pale boy opposite him – the boy whose own father would rather kill him than leave Voldemort.  
 

 

“The Malfoy’s have given us some very useful information about Voldemort’s plans, Harry,” Remus said quietly. “I believe they may be of great help. But of course, this is your house, and you have final say of whether they stay or go. But remember that if they leave, it will mean certain death.”  
 

Harry was silent, looking at the Malfoys with loathing. Behind Draco and Narcissa’s proud expression there was fear in their eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” he spat eventually, glaring at them, “you can stay. But,” he continued, looking directly at Draco, “if I hear one insult from you, one derogatory comment about the Weasleys, or Hermione, or anyone, one mention of Mudbloods or Blood-traitors – you will be out in a second. Is that understood?” Malfoy’s lip curled and he opened his mouth, but his mother got there first.   
 

“That is perfectly understood, Potter,” she said coolly. “Draco will not say a word.” Harry nodded stiffly.  
“Right!” Mrs Weasley said in an unsually high voice, “who’s hungry?”  
 

* * *  
 

 

The next day was quiet and uneventful, and Harry did not see either Malfoy or his mother until the evening. He had come downstairs around eleven o’clock to get himself a drink before he went to bed. Malfoy was apparently doing the same thing; he was in the middle of pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice when Harry came in. They both stopped for a few seconds, and then pretended that neither one was there. Harry turned on the tap and poured himself a glass of water, his back deliberately turned to Malfoy.   
 

“I wouldn’t have done it, you know,” Malfoy said suddenly, turning to face Harry.  
 

“Done what?” Harry asked, also turning around.  
 

 

 “I wouldn’t have done it.”  
 

 

“What are you on about? Harry asked irritably.  
 

 

“I wouldn’t have killed Dumbledore,” Malfoy said quickly, looking at the floor. “I don’t know when you came or how much you saw…but even if Snape hadn’t done it himself, I still wouldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have.”  
 

“I know,” Harry said quietly. “I was there the whole time. Dumbledore saw me and cast a silencing spell and a disillusionment charm on me, so you lot wouldn’t see that I was there. I saw everything. I heard everything.” He paused. “I saw you lower your wand.”  
 

Malfoy was silent for a while. “I thought I could do it,” he said eventually. “I thought it would be easy, a piece of cake. But then, when it actually came to it…when he was there, looking at me… _he kept looking at me_ …I just couldn’t do it.”  
 

 

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t, isn’t it?” Harry said.  
 

“Is it?” Malfoy said slowly. “I’m on the run from the Dark Lord, my father has disowned me, I’ve put my mother’s life in danger, I’m wanted by the Ministry…is that really good?”  
 

 

“Well, at least you’re still alive,” Harry said lightly. “If you had actually killed Dumbledore, you’d be dead by now.”

  
 

“Yeah? How’d you work that one out?” Malfoy asked, slightly scornfully.  
 

 

“If you had killed Dumbledore, then I would have killed you,” Harry said simply, looking Malfoy in the eye.   
 

 

“You?” Malfoy said with a slight sneer. “You couldn’t kill anyone, Potter. You don’t have it in you!”  
 

 

“Yeah?” Harry said coolly. “Then how d’you expect me to finish this, then? How d’you expect me to kill Voldemort if I haven’t got it in me?”  
 

 

Malfoy flinched at Voldemort’s name. “I’ve never said I expected you to finish this, scarhead. On the contrary, I’d be rather surprised if you manage to pull this off.”  
 

 

Harry snorted. “Okay, Draco. Whatever you say. Just remember, I’ve been underestimated before.” He turned to go.  
 

 

“Snape was right, you know,” Malfoy said suddenly, and Harry turned around again. “He always said you were arrogant, but I never actually thought you were. But you are. You are now.”  
 

 

Harry paused, looking into Malfoy’s light grey eyes. Then he grinned. “Yeah, I am,” he said pleasantly. “I take after my dad.”  

 

 

 

 

Hope you liked it...ooh, if any of you guys have myspace or facebook feel free to add me and continue our HP obsession! Just send me a msg if poss saying that you're from this site so I dont think you're someone random! My name is Selene Nelson  :)


	39. Bloodstained Silver

**38  
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******Bloodstained Silver**   


 

 

Harry spent the rest of that weekend rather pleasantly, trying to ignore Malfoy and his mother, and spending time with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. He noticed that kept looking at him whenever they thought he wasn’t looking, as if he would suddenly start to shout, to cry, to faint…anything, in short, that would be considered ‘worrying behaviour’. Harry knew that they, along with Remus – the only people apart from himself and Snape who knew what had happened – were concerned about how he would act now the Horcrux had been extracted. If Harry was honest with himself, he was rather concerned too. He ranged from feeling liberated and calm to frustrated and angry, he was not sure how much – if any – of Voldemort still remained in him, or, as Snape had suggested, that it had seeped into his own soul and was ingrained inside him. On the Sunday afternoon, shortly before they left to go back to Hogwarts, the four were sitting in Harry’s room playing exploding snap. Every time Harry looked down at his cards he sensed the other three’s eyes on him, staring and judging. He looked up rather impatiently.  


 

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’m okay. There’s no need to worry about what happened, or what’s going to happen. I’m fine.”  


 

“Harry, what you went through was…well, no one’s been through anything like that before,” Hermione said uneasily. “You don’t know what to expect – we don’t even know if it worked!”  


 

“It did work,” Harry said calmly, looking at Hermione intently.  


 

“How d’you know?” Ron asked. “I mean, you can’t be sure, can you? I know Snape said that your scar being red and hot suggests it did work, but you can know for sure, can you?”  


 

“Yes,” Harry said simply, laying his cards down on the floor. “It did work. Don’t ask me how I know, but it did. I can feel it.”  


 

“Do you feel any different?” Ginny asked cautiously, watching Harry’s face carefully.  
Harry thought for a moment.  


 

“No,” he said finally, “I don’t. I was wondering, though, how much of the powers and traits that Voldemort passed on to me are still there. Like, will I be able to still speak Parseltongue?” Hermione said nothing but picked up her wand and gave it a small wave. A thin black snake fell from the tip of it and slithered towards Harry. Ron and Ginny shrank back.  


 

“Tell it to go away, Harry” Hermione said. Harry looked into the snake’s small, beady back eyes and opened his mouth.  


 

“ _Go away_ ,” he said quietly, but no one understood what he said. A short series of hisses came from his lips, and the snake immediately stopped where it was. Hermione waved her wand and the snake vanished.  


 

“Well, that settles that then,” she said briskly, although Harry noticed she had gone slightly pale. “You’re still a Parselmouth.”  


 

“Doesn’t that mean it didn’t work, then?” Ron said, staring at the place the snake had been.  


 

“It did work Ron, I’ve already told you,” Harry said impatiently. “I dunno, I suppose it just means Snape was right; there’s always going to be part of Voldemort inside me.” The other three stared at him in horror and Harry gave a small sigh. “Look, I cant pretend I’m over the moon about it either, but it’s not all bad.”  


 

“Isn’t it?” Ron asked doubtfully. Harry shook his head.  


 

“No. Put it this way: I’ve still got power I wouldn’t have otherwise, power that would come in useful. Power that the Dark Lord knows not, remember? It’s all part of the prophecy. This way I’ve got the best of both worlds – I’m not a Horcrux anymore and Voldemort is now mortal. But, I’ve also got the benefits of it. I’ll still know if he’s near, I’ll still know if he’s really angry or really happy, it just wont be as strong as it was.”  


 

“But what about all the dreams?” Ginny said slowly. “What about the way he was able to possess you, talk to you? If there’s still a connection between you and him, wont that still be possible?”  


 

“I don’t think so,” Harry said after a pause. “There is still a connection between us, but in order to possess someone it needs to be stronger than it is.”  


 

Ginny nodded slowly. “So he’s mortal now? You can just kill him then, with the killing curse?”  


 

“I suppose so,” Harry said quietly.  


 

“But…Harry…” Hermione said slowly, “do you think you’ll still be able to perform the killing curse? Didn’t Dumbledore think that the reason you could do it in the first place was because of V-V-Voldemort’s influence on you?” Harry picked up his wand and muttered something, and a small spider dropped from the end and onto the floor. Ron shuddered and shifted back. Harry pointed his wand at it and concentrated hard.  


 

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” he hissed, and a jet of green light shot out from his wand and hit the spider, which went limp instantaneously. “Yes, I can still do it,” he said casually, vanishing the dead spider and putting his wand away. The three stared at him in shock and horror. “What?”  


 

“Harry…” Hermione said weakly. “Harry that was…well, it seemed so… _easy_ for you.”  


 

“It _was_ easy,” Harry replied, looking back at her steadily with not a hint of shame. “It was easy because it was a spider, and it was easy because it has to be. Don’t look like that, Hermione. I’m not like Voldemort. I didn’t enjoy doing it, I didn’t get a kick out of it. I don’t want to do it again. But I have to. It’s like what Moody said a while back…if I can’t kill a fly – or in this case a spider – how am I going to kill a man?”  


 

“It’s not…it’s not just that, Harry,” Ginny said. “Snape said that when you recover, it’s likely that there may be loss of your powers – a temporary loss,” she added hastily. “And for you to be able to perform the killing curse – the strongest and most intense spell there is – that’s really…well, that’s really unexpected, Harry.”  


 

Harry was silent for a while. “Well,” he said eventually, “isn’t that a good thing, then? It just means that it didn’t affect my power. Surely that’s good?”  


 

“Yes, it is,” Hermione said slowly. “I just means that the power we thought was V-Voldemort’s is actually yours.” There was a long pause. “You must be a really powerful wizard, Harry.”  


 

“Well, we’ve known that for a while, haven’t we?” Ginny said. “Your parents were too, though, weren’t they Harry? It’s in your blood.”  


 

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”  


 

* * *  


 

“You all set then, Harry?” Remus asked a while later, clapping Harry on the shoulder.  


 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod.  


 

“Good. I should also let you know that I’ll be returning to Hogwarts with you.” Harry looked up quickly. “Calm down, Harry,” Remus continued, looking faintly amused. “I’m not there to try and look after you…well, not entirely. It’s better if there’s a few Order members at that school, and although Minerva and Filius and a few other teachers are members, they do not have the time necessary to keep a good eye out. And I can do that.”  


 

“Okay,” Harry said, although he still rather thought that Remus’s main reason for going to the school was to watch over him.  


 

“How are you getting on with everything, Harry?” Remus asked, lowering his voice.  


 

“Fine.” Remus raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “No, really, it’s fine,” Harry insisted. “I know I’ve said that before when I obviously wasn’t fine, but I feel okay. It’s like…I feel confident. I feel I can do it, you know? I feel I can kill him. I think maybe…I think because the last Horcrux is gone, I know he’s mortal now. He’s just like any other man. He can be killed.”  


 

“It will still take exceptional talent to kill a wizard as powerful as Voldemort, Harry,” Remus pointed out.  


 

“I know, Remus,” Harry said wearily. Remus clapped him on the shoulder again.  


 

“Right, I think it’s time for us to be off, Harry. Molly’s about to get the fireplace ready.” They walked into the kitchen where everyone – except Narcissa Malfoy – were waiting, sitting around the table and chatting. Mrs Weasley pressed a box of cakes into Harry’s hand, insisting he needed to keep his strength up, and Harry took it graciously. He, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Remus began to make their way to the fireplace.  


 

“What happened to your scar, Potter?” Malfoy asked suddenly, looking up from the table where he was at next to Snape.  


 

“What?” Harry asked, trying to stall for time.  


 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Your scar, Potter,” he drawled, eyeing Harry’s forehead. “Why does it look like that?”  


 

“Er…like what?” Harry asked, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.  


 

“You know what I mean, Potter,” Malfoy said. “It’s all red.” Harry’s scar had actually faded slightly over the last day, but it was still redder and more inflamed than usual.  


 

“I hardly think Potter’s scar is your concern, Draco,” Snape interjected silkily.  


 

Malfoy looked sulky. “Fine, have your stupid secrets. Doesn’t bother me. Have fun at _school_ ,” he said mockingly.  


 

Harry nodded. “I will,” he said earnestly. “And if I see Crabbe and Goyle around, I’ll make sure I send them your love.”  
Malfoy scowled as Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins laughed . “Yeah, you have your little joke, Potter. Probably the last one you’ll ever make.  
“Yeah? And why’s that?” Harry asked lightly.  
“ _You’re not going to last a second, Potter_!” Malfoy spat, and the atmosphere in the room darkened considerably. Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He’ll kill you in seconds! He wants you dead! You haven’t got a chance!”  
Harry looked at him coldly, his face tight. “Really, Malfoy?” he said quietly. “Strange then, isn’t it, how he’s wanted me dead since I was a baby and here I am, almost seventeen, still walking and talking…still very much alive.”  
Malfoy’s eyes flashed. “You’re so unbelievably big-headed, Potter. You’re so arrogant that you won’t even realise it’s over until you wake up one day and everyone is dead, and you know that you’re next.”  Harry took a step forward, his jaw clenched, but Remus quickly stepped between the two.  
“Right, time to go, I think!” he said hastily. “Harry, you first. Into the fireplace, come on.”  
* * *  
“Er, Remus, do you want to go for a walk?” Harry asked the following evening. He had gone up to the staffroom where Remus was staying, along with all the other teachers.  
Remus looked surprised but pleased.  
“Sure, Harry.” He stepped out of the staff room and the two walked down the corridor and through the entrance hall. Neither of them spoke, but it was a comfortable silence. Ever since Harry had confided in Remus about the Horcruxes he had felt a lot closer to him, and had come to see him as sort of an uncle-figure. The fact that he was older and consistently supportive gave him the air of a father-type figure, but the recent comradeship that they had acquired was more like that of a friend, not dissimilar to the one he shared with Ron.   
“Is there something you wanted to talk about, Harry?” Remus asked as they approached the lake, stopping and leaning against a tree. “Or did you merely want to stretch your legs with a bit of company?”  


 

Harry smiled. “A bit of both, really,” he said honestly. “Although I was wondering…” He stopped and turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think I’m arrogant?”  


 

Remus’s lips twitched. “Is this because of what Mr Malfoy said last night, Harry?”  


 

“Yeah, kind of,” Harry admitted. “Because he said it the day before too and…well, I do feel kind of…more confident now. I dunno why. Maybe I _am_ arrogant,” he said, looking closely at Remus’s face.  


 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Harry,” Remus said, ruffling Harry’s hair fondly. “It’s probably just James coming out in you!” He made as if to move on but Harry stayed where he was.  


 

“Do you think I’m arrogant?” he pressed.  


 

Remus paused. “I think you’ve grown a lot in confidence over the last few days, Harry. And that is a good thing.”  


 

“That wasn’t what I asked.”  


 

Remus sighed. “Yes, Harry, these last few days I have noticed elements of arrogance in you, something I had not seen before. But it is far better that you are how you are now than the way you were last year. You remember what you were saying then, Harry…that you could never do it, that you would fail…you remember how you felt then. And whilst it would be a terribly foolish thing to underestimate Voldemort, I do not think you are doing that. I don’t think this anything to dwell over, Harry.”  


 

“It’s just…weird,” Harry said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Ever since I’ve known him, Snape’s always gone on about me being arrogant. And I really wasn’t.”  


 

“That was because of James, Harry,” Remus said.  


 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know. It just seems weird that I’ve been fighting against being seen as arrogant for so long, and in the last few days….well, even I’ve noticed how I’m sounding, some of the things I’m saying…”  


 

“Perhaps it’s because the Horcrux is gone, Harry,” Remus said. Harry looked up quizzically. “Well, now there’s no part of Voldemort in you, wouldn’t it mean that there’s more space for the Potter in you to show its face?”  


 

Harry grinned. “What, like this is my dad’s way of coming out in me?”  


 

Remus smiled too. “Something like that. You have his best qualities too, Harry. Don’t forget that. James was a good person.”  


 

“Yeah, I know.”  


 

Remus paused. “I’ve never been able to decide if you are more like James or Lily, Harry. In the beginning, when we first met, I thought you were definitely more like Lily. You had her sensitivity, her compassion, her drive. And yet, as you’ve grown older, I think James has come out in you more and more.”  


 

“What, because I’ve got all cocky?” Harry said, only half joking.  


 

Remus smiled. “There was more to James than a bit of arrogance, Harry. You know that. James was incredibly determined, incredibly stubborn. He was loyal and brave…a very strong person. As you have gotten older, I see that more and more in you. More than anything else, James absolutely despised dark magic. He hated it with a passion that was rare in one so young, rare for someone whose life had not been marred by it. And you are the same.”  


 

“Yeah, but I’ve got reason to hate dark magic, haven’t I?” Harry said, his voice laced with bitterness. He noticed the concerned look cross Remus’s face and smiled. “It’s okay, really. Last year, when I looked in the pensieve and saw Snape’s memory…you know, when my dad and Sirius were…”  


 

“I know the one you mean, Harry,” Remus said hastily.  


 

“Yeah, well…that was the first time I ever felt…ashamed. Whenever anyone told me I was like my dad, I really liked it - I was proud. And then after that, I felt like I didn’t want to be the same, I didn’t want to be like him.”  


 

“That’s perfectly understandable, Harry,” Remus said. “That’s your mother coming out in you. You have the same compassion she did.”  


 

“But now…it’s like I’m past that. Because I _am_ the same as him. I dunno if this makes any sense,” he said, shaking his head slightly, “but I think I maybe needed to become more like him in order to forgive him for what he was like.”  


 

“That makes complete sense,” Remus said with a smile. “He was an idiot for a while…we all were. But we grew out of. Most of the time.” He smiled again. “Your mother was the one who changed him, Harry. She made him a better person.”  


 

Harry nodded. “Did you love her?” he asked suddenly. He stopped, unsure where the question had come from. He had never even considered the fact that Remus had ever felt anything more than friendship for his mother, but the words had come out of his mouth before he could even register what he was saying. For a second he thought Remus was going to get angry; his face tightened slightly and he looked away.  


 

“What makes you ask that?” he said carefully.  


 

Harry shrugged, feeling very awkward. “I…I just…I dunno,” he said truthfully.  


 

Remus sighed, his face relaxing. “I think everyone was in love with Lily, Harry. And yes, that means me included.” He looked Harry in the eye. “It was nothing complicated, Harry, don’t worry. There was no messy love triangle, with me and James fighting over her.” He smiled faintly. “No, I loved her from afar. I knew she was meant to be with James - it was obvious. But she was kind, and witty, and beautiful. When she found out about my condition she was…wonderful. She was always there if I needed someone to talk to, always there if I needed support…how could anyone not love her? But when she married James I was as happy as anyone, Harry. They belonged with each other, and I always knew that.”  
Harry nodded. Remus smiled and gave him a brief hug. “Come on, we should go back to the castle - it’s getting dark.”  


 

They turned and began to walk slowly back. They had only gone a few metres when Harry stopped abruptly, his heart pounding.   


 

“Harry? What is it?” Remus asked worriedly.  


 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead. His scar twinged very slightly - far less than it used to - and he rubbed it anxiously. “Remus, we need to get inside. _Now_.” Remus nodded and the two broke into a run.  


 

“What’s your hurry, Potter?” a voice came from behind them. Harry and Remus whirled around, their wands drawn. Peter Pettigrew was standing a few feet away, a nasty smile on his pointed face. He was flanked by a tall Death Eater. His face was hidden by a mask, but Harry could tell from the white blond hair that was poking out from under the hood that it was Lucius Malfoy.  


 

“Hello, Peter,” Remus said calmly, trying to push Harry behind him. “It seems there is no end to your treachery.” Pettigrew smiled horribly but said nothing.  


 

“What do you want, Wormtail?” Harry snarled, feeling hatred pounding in his veins.  


 

“I would like it if you came back with us, Harry Potter. The Dark Lord is dying to see you.”  


 

“Harry’s not going anywhere,” Remus said coldly, eyeing Wormtail with disgust.  


 

“Are you sure about that, Lupin?” A third man stepped from the shadows of the trees; he was tall and broad, and his clothes seemed ridiculously tight on him. He had a stubbly, wild face, and gave off the odour of stale sweat and blood.  


 

“I see you have chosen your position, Fenrir,” Remus said gravely.  


 

“That I have, Lupin,” Fenrir Greyback growled, grinning and revealing sharp, uneven teeth. His yellow eyes turned to Harry and he licked his lips obscenely. “The Potter boy. How…sweet.” He took a step towards Harry, his eyes glinting hungrily.  


 

“No! He is not to be harmed!” Wormtail said quickly, and Greyback stepped back looking disappointed.   


 

“Come now, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy drawled. “Come with us and your little werewolf friend need not be harmed.”  


 

Harry laughed scornfully. “Yeah, right Malfoy.” He felt Remus grip his elbow and try to tug him backwards.  


 

“ _You need to go, Harry_ ,” Remus hissed quietly. “Run. I’ll be fine. They don’t want me, they want you. I’ll distract them. You must do this Harry. _You must_.” Harry gave a barely perceptible nod, and Remus’s grip on his elbow loosened.  


 

“I’m sure there is an amicable way to sort this out,” Remus said pleasantly, addressing Wormtail. “However, I’m sorry to say that I’m not in a particularly amicable mood right now.” Before Harry even realised that Remus had raised his wand, a cloud of thick grey smoke had enveloped the two, obscuring them from view. “Harry, run!” Harry felt a shove in his side and obediently began to run towards the castle. He heard yells and shouts, and Remus’s voice crying “ _Stupefy_!”  


 

“Going somewhere, are we Potter?” growled a voice from behind him, and the next thing Harry knew he was pinned to the ground, a huge weight on top of him. Fenrir Greyback was grinning down at him, and Harry saw with a shudder the unmistakable stains of blood smeared around his mouth. Harry struggled for his wand but Greyback’s weight was immense; he could not move his top half. He brought his knee up as hard as he could and Greyback gave a wolf-like howl, loosening his hold on Harry. Harry seized the opportunity and grabbed his wand, raising it just as Greyback began to rise up. Harry swung out his foot towards Greyback’s face and, with a twinge of grim pleasure, he heard - as well as felt - bones crack. Greyback snarled in pain, and Harry swung back his foot again and slammed it as hard as he could into the werewolf‘s head. Greyback fell to the ground, knocked out.  


 

Harry looked back towards where Wormtail, Malfoy and Remus were. The smoke had cleared, and the three were engaged in a fierce duel. Remus seemed to be holding his own, but then Malfoy disapparated, reappearing behind him. Remus whirled around and shot another stunning spell but Malfoy blocked it. With Remus’s attention focused on Malfoy, he did not notice Wormtail approach him until they were only a foot apart. Wormtail stretched out his magical hand and quickly slashed across Remus’s chest. Remus dropped immediately, his face pale, gasping for breath.  


 

“No!” Harry gasped, beginning to run towards the three. He stunned Malfoy before they even realised he was there, but Wormtail spun around, his eyes glittering. He made no attempt to curse Harry, however, but merely looked at him. “Remus! Are you okay?” Harry cried.  


 

Remus looked up from where he was slumped beside a tree. He was deathly pale and gasping for air. “I’m fine, Harry,” he managed. “You should go… _go_!”  


 

“I’m not going anywhere!” Harry said vehemently, staring at Remus’s chest. There was blood soaking through his shirt, but the gash looked fairly shallow; Harry could not understand why Remus seemed in so much pain.  


 

“It’s silver, Potter,” Wormtail said suddenly, holding out his magical hand, which was stained with Remus’s blood. “Silver and werewolves do not mix - surely you are aware of that? If silver enters a werewolf’s bloodstream, they will die; hence killing a werewolf with a silver bullet.” His eyes flickered over Remus and he tutted idly. “Dear dear…I fear he does not have much time.”  


 

“ _How could you_?” Harry said, his voice barely audible. “What kind of a man are you?” His voice rose with anger. “He was your friend! Sirius was your friend, my parents were your friends…and you betrayed them all! And for what? To serve a man whose name you can’t even speak…how can you live with yourself? You’re a coward!”  


 

“There are more important things than bravery, Harry Potter,” Wormtail said, his face twitching angrily.  


 

“Yeah, there are!” Harry said furiously. “Like friendship, and loyalty! Some things you have never understood!” They glared at each other, both eyeing the other’s raised wand. Harry could still hear Remus breathing, although it was shallow and quick. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder, and felt himself be dragged to the ground. Fenrir Greyback had apparently regained consciousness.  


 

“No escape for you this time, Harry Potter!” he growled, flecks of blood from where Harry had kicked him splashing onto Harry’s face. He was leaning closer towards him - Harry could feel his hot breath on his cheek - his mouth was opening, his teeth were bared….  


 

“ _Stupefy_!” A jet of red light slammed into Greyback and he slumped onto Harry, unconscious. Harry wriggled out with difficulty and stood up quickly. Wormtail was holding out his own wand, which was smoking slightly at the tip and was pointed at Greyback’s limp form. “You saved my life three years ago, Potter. I owed you a life debt. This debt has now been paid, and I owe you nothing. Next time I see you, I will not let you go.” He walked quickly towards Malfoy‘s unconscious form, gripping the man’s arm. Harry simply stared, too dumbfounded to try and curse him. His shoulder was aching horribly from where Greyback had slashed him, and he felt weak and shaky. With one last cold look at Harry, Wormtail disapparated, taking Malfoy with him. Harry ran towards Remus.  


 

“Remus! Remus! Are you okay?” Remus looked up at Harry, his eyes cloudy.  


 

“I’m okay, Harry,” he said, his voice worryingly quiet. “I’m okay.”  


 

“I’m going to get help, okay?” Harry said quickly. He stood up and then thought  better of it, sitting down again next to Lupin. “I’m going to get Snape, hang on.” He screwed up his eyes and pictured Snape’s face in his mind, pictured breaking though the barrier and into his mind. The effort was incredibly draining, and Harry began to shiver with cold and weakness.  


 

“What is it, Potter?” Snape’s voice echoed in his mind, and Harry gasped with relief.  


 

“ _We’ve been attacked_ …” he thought fiercely, “ _me and Remus…he’s injured…Wormtail’s hand…please…please help…”_  


 

“Where are you?” Snape asked quickly.  


 

“ _By the lake_ ,” Harry thought, “ _you have to hurry…please_ …” He felt his presence leave Snape’s mind, and he slumped down next to Remus. “It’s okay, Remus,” he gasped, feeling increasingly light-headed. “It’s okay, Snape’s coming. You’ll be fine.” Remus sighed slightly but did not reply. Harry looked at him. His face was pale and sweaty, and the cut, although shallow, was bleeding profusely. Harry tugged off his own shirt and pressed it to the wound. For a second it seemed like the bleeding had lessened, but then it quickly soaked through his shirt.  


 

“It’s no use, Harry,” Remus managed weakly. “It’s a cursed wound - it won’t stop bleeding.”  


 

“Madam Pomfrey will know of a way,” Harry said firmly, shivering as the night air hit his exposed torso. “You’ll be fine, Remus. I promise you. I promise.”  


 

“I’m very proud of you, Harry,” Remus whispered.  


 

“Tell me that tomorrow, Remus. You need your strength now,” Harry gasped.  


 

Remus smiled faintly. “There won’t be a tomorrow for me, Harry.”  


 

“Yes there will!” Harry said stubbornly. “You’ll be fine, I promise, Remus. I promise.” He carried on blindly promising, trying not to notice the increasing pallor of Remus’s skin and the darkening of his eyes. “I promise, it’s okay. You’ll be fine. I promise. I promise.”  


 

It felt like hours that he sat there, slumped next to Remus, but in reality it was only a few minutes before help came. Snape, Moody, Bill, Charlie, Professor McGonagall and Kingsley ran through the grounds, the light from their wands showing them where Harry and Remus were. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were hurrying wildly after them, panic and fear on their faces. As soon as they reached them they saw what Harry had failed to see, what he had refused to see. Remus had gone back on his word, on the promise he had made to Harry in the Shrieking Shack, and what Harry had sworn would never happen again had just reoccurred. Someone else had stepped in front of him, someone else had battled to save him, someone else had spilled their blood for him. Remus Lupin, the last of the true Marauders, was dead.  
   


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wasn’t going to torture Harry anymore (well, at least not until the final battle :p) but it was like my fingers had a mind of their own! My head was telling me to leave poor Lupin alone and let him live, but my fingers carried on regardless…sorry! I love Lupin…at least I’ll be prepared if JK does decide to really kill him off!_  
_PLEASE review! Next chapter up soon.  
_ _Selene_


	40. Preparations

  
**40  
** ****

 

******Preparations  
** ****

 

 

Harry barely noticed that help had arrived - he was numb with cold and shaking violently as he continued to press his sodden shirt against Remus’s chest. The wound was no longer bleeding. The six Order members and Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood in appalled silence, looking at Remus in shock and horror. Harry looked up, finally noticing them.  


 

“ _Hurry_ ,” he said through chattering teeth, “he needs the hospital wing. It was Wormtail’s silver hand…it cut him…he needs help.” Hermione’s hand was over her mouth and tears were already forming in her eyes. Professor McGonagall walked slowly towards Harry and tried to pull him up.  


 

“Come on, Potter,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “You’re injured. You need to go to the castle.”  


 

“No!” Harry said, struggling away. “I’m staying with Remus. He needs help, look. I promised him…”  


 

“He’s dead, Harry,” Bill said gently, taking a step forward, his face very pale. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder but Harry shrugged it off angrily.  


 

“NO! He is _not_ dead!” he said urgently, not looking at Remus’s lifeless face. “He’s been injured, but he’ll be okay! I promised him he would…I promised him…”  


 

“Harry,” Ginny said quietly, kneeling down next to him. “Please…come with us.” Her eyes sparkled with tears. She glanced at Remus and flinched, looking away quickly. “Please come.” Harry stared at her. For a moment she thought he was going to stand and come with her. Then he shook his head, gripping Remus’s arm more tightly.  


 

“I can’t,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I promised him.”  


 

“Stop touching him, Harry!” Ron said suddenly, his face pale and horrified. “He’s dead! Stop touching him!”  


 

Snape stepped forward and tugged Harry’s hand away from Remus’s limp body. “Come on, Potter,” he said calmly. “You need to come in. You’re hurt; your shoulder needs to be treated.”  


 

Harry finally stood up, swaying slightly. Snape gripped his elbow, steadying him. “Don’t…don’t leave him,” he whispered, looking at Remus’s pale form. “Please don’t leave him there….”  


 

“We’ll take him up, Harry,” Kingsley said, and Bill, Charlie and Moody nodded in agreement. Snape led Harry towards the castle, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Professor McGonagall following behind. Harry walked blindly along, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Remus was dead. Harry had made him promise that he would not stand in front of Harry, that he would not put his own life in danger. And Remus had broken his promise. But so had Harry. Harry closed his eyes in shame, thinking of the empty promises he had made to Remus just minutes ago. Remus was dead. All the Marauders - all the true Marauders - had given their lives for him, died for him. How much longer could this go on? Harry felt himself being lowered onto a bed, and a vial of potion was forced into his hand. He gulped it down without thinking. Madam Pomfrey dabbed some sort of stinging liquid onto his shoulder, but Harry barely winced. He felt numb, all over. For one of the first times, Madam Pomfrey didn’t make any sarcastic comments about the number of times Harry ended up in the hospital wing - she could obviously tell by the expressions on everyone’s face that it was not the best time.  


 

“What happened, Potter?” Snape asked quietly when Madam Pomfrey had finished.  


 

“We were walking,” Harry said monotonously. “Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy and Greyback came out; they must have been hiding in the forest.”  


 

“Greyback? Fenrir Greyback?” Professor McGonagall said in horror.  


 

Harry nodded. “They told me to come with them. Remus distracted them and told me to run. I did, and then Greyback pinned me down. I managed to knock him out, and I ran back to help Remus. I stunned Malfoy, but Pettigrew cut Remus with his silver hand. I went to go to him, but Greyback woke up and slashed me across the shoulder. I fell and he tried to bite me, but Pettigrew stunned him.”  


 

“ _Pettigrew_ did?” Hermione asked incredulously.  
   
Harry nodded. “He said that he owed me a life debt from when I stopped Remus and Sirius killing him in my third year. He said he’d paid it back now, and that next time he wouldn’t let me go. Then he managed to disapparate – I dunno how - and took Malfoy with him. Greyback is still there, I think.”  


 

“Alastor and the rest will find him,” McGonagall said shakily. She and the others stared at Harry, and Ginny squeezed his hand tightly. Harry used to hate being touched in times like this, hate contact from someone else. This time, however, he drew comfort from it. He squeezed her own hand back, his face screwed up. Ginny sensed his need for comfort and reached over, pulling him into a firm hug. He buried his head in her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill. He would not cry in front of Snape. Hermione sensed his need for privacy and stood.  


 

“I think we should go now, Professors,” she said to Snape and McGonagall. Snape nodded quickly and moved towards the door, McGonagall following more slowly. Hermione stepped towards the bed, and handed Harry another vial of potion. “It’s for a dreamless sleep, Harry,” she said quietly. “You should take it when Ginny goes.” Harry nodded, and Hermione leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “We’ll be up tomorrow, Harry,” she whispered and Harry nodded again. Ron stepped forward, looking pale.  


 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, mate,” he said quietly, giving Harry’s uninjured shoulder an awkward pat. The room emptied. Ginny stroked his hair soothingly, saying nothing. Harry was glad - he did not want to hear empty words and meaningless phrases. It would not be okay, it would not be fine. He tried to swallow the lump on his throat but it would not budge.  


 

“Ginny…” he whispered, not knowing what he wanted to say. She seemed to understand, and kissed the top of his head.  


 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she murmured, hugging him tightly. “I’m so, so sorry.” They stayed like that for a while until Harry relaxed his grip on her slightly. Ginny reached for the dreamless sleep potion and handed it to him. “Drink this, Harry.” He swallowed it dutifully, and almost immediately his eyelids began to lower.  


 

“Stay with me, Gin,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”  


 

“I’m not going anywhere, Harry,” she said firmly, lying down next to him and taking his hand in hers. “I’ll stay with you forever.”  


 

* * *  


 

When Harry awoke the next day it was already afternoon. Ginny was sitting on the chair beside the bed, just looking at him. For a second Harry couldn’t remember why he was there, he couldn’t remember what could have happened to make Ginny look at him in that way. And then it came flooding back, and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to force the thoughts away.  


 

“Hermione and Ron have been in twice,” Ginny said, standing up and sitting next to him on the bed. “Mum’s here too; she wants you to come back to Grimmauld Place.”  


 

Harry nodded. “Okay.”  


 

Ginny stroked his cheek gently. “How are you feeling?” she said softly. Harry shrugged. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t…I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.” She paused. “Do you want to be on your own for a while?”  


 

Harry shook his head. “No. I know I used to want that…but I don’t anymore. I want to be with you. And Ron and Hermione.”  


 

Ginny brightened. “Do you want me to go and get them?” she asked, and Harry nodded. She left the room, coming back in a short while later with a rather breathless Ron and Hermione. Hermione gave him a hug immediately, but Ron hung back rather awkwardly.  


 

“Harry…” he began slowly, “Harry, I’m really sorry. About Professor Lupin. I really am.”  


 

Harry nodded. “It’s alright,” he said quietly. “I know you are.” They looked at each other slightly uncomfortably, and then Ron reached out and gave Harry a quick, self conscious hugr. Hermione sighed but smiled.  


 

“How are you feeling? Do you think you’re up to going back to Grimmauld Place tonight?”  


 

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, wanting for the first time to be away from Hogwarts.  


 

An hour later he was back at Grimmauld Place and being greeted by a tearful Mrs Weasley.  


 

“Oh Harry…you poor boy…I’m sorry, dear…”  


 

“It’s okay, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said, trying to smile. The kitchen was full; all the Weasleys were there, as was Fleur, Snape and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. Malfoy did not made any snide comments, for which Harry was grateful – he didn’t think his patience would last. He managed to escape after only a few minutes, giving Snape a significant look as he left the room. He waited outside in the hall and after a short while, as he had hoped, Snape left the room too. They walked in silence into the living room. Snape looked at Harry expectantly.  


 

“I want to end this,” Harry said breathlessly. “Now. It can’t go on. This can’t keep happening. I need to do it…to kill him.”  


 

Snape was silent for a while, studying Harry’s face. “Do you think now is the best time, Potter?” he asked quietly.  


 

“What do you mean?”  


 

Snape sighed. “If you are going to do this, you need to be one hundred percent focused. You cannot let other factors in your life interfere, you cannot be weakened in either your mind or your body.”  


 

“I’m not,” Harry said quickly. “I’m ready for this, I really am.” He paused and looked away, rubbing his scar. “It’s weird. It doesn’t…it doesn’t feel real. Remus being dead, I mean. I can’t even…I can’t get my head around it. One minute he’s there, and now…” He trailed off, but turned to face Snape again, meeting his gaze steadily. “This is why we have to do it now,” he said forcefully. “I’m okay…I’m not thinking about it, I’m not grieving, I’m not weakened by it. I’m numb to any pain, and that’s what I need. All I feel is anger, and all I want to do is put an end to this all. I want to kill him. And I can do it. I’m ready now. I really am.” He stared at Snape fiercely, and after a few moments Snape nodded.  


 

“Yes, I think you are.”  


 

“Then how do we do this? How do I find him?”  


 

“You cannot merely walk up to him, Potter. It is not that simple. You will need to draw him to you.”  


 

“And how can I do that?”  


 

Snape was silent. “Well,” he said eventually, “I believe you are being watched more closely than you imagine. How did the Death Eaters know you and Lupin were in that particular area, at that particular time, away from prying eyes? They are watching you, Potter, and you can play to that.”  


 

“How?” Harry asked eagerly.  


 

“You will have to make them think that you are on your own, unaccompanied and unaware. We will have to plan this well, Potter. You will need the Order to be at your side, but they cannot be seen. I will have to talk to Professor McGonagall about this.  


 

“How long will it be until we can do it?” Harry asked.  


 

“Perhaps a week,” Snape said idly.  


 

“A _week_?” Harry echoed. “But what if Voldemort acts before that? What if he kills someone else? What if –?”  


 

“There is no alternative, Potter,” Snape interrupted. “This is not some fun adventure you are planning for. This is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, and sufficient planning is paramount in you succeeding. We will need the whole Order informed and prepared, we will need support from the Ministry, we will need more Aurors, we will need –”  


 

“ _Alright_ ,” Harry interjected wearily. “Alright. I get your point.”  


 

“Good,” Snape said crisply. “It is best if you get as much sleep and rest as you can now, Potter. You will need your strength for when the time comes.” Harry nodded slowly, rubbing his scar again. “Does it hurt?” Snape asked suddenly.  


 

“What?” Harry said, dropping his hand quickly.    


 

“Your scar, Potter. Does it hurt? You were touching it.”  


 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “It’s just…habit.”  


 

“Has it hurt since the Horcrux was extracted?” Snape said quietly, his eyes lingering over Harry’s forehead. His scar had faded slightly, and now looked the same as it had done before the Horcrux was extracted. Harry rather hoped that it would continue fading until there was nothing left.  


 

Harry shook his head. “No, not really. Well…” he hesitated.  


 

“Yes?” Snape prompted.  


 

“Well, just before Wormtail appeared,” Harry began slowly, “I knew something was wrong. My scar twinged slightly…nowhere near as much as before, but it still kind of…gave me a warning.” He looked at Snape. “What does that mean? Does it mean it didn’t work properly? The extraction, I mean?”  


 

“On the contrary,” Snape said. “If it had not worked, your scar would have reacted as it used to. A slight twinge, if that is all that happened, is nothing to worry about. It just means that there will always be a connection between you and the Dark Lord. That is what I supposed would happen.”  


 

“And you said that’s because it’s been in me for too long?”  


 

“Yes. If a seventh of the Dark Lord’s soul has been in you for this long, then inevitably part of your own soul will be affected, particularly because your soul was not fully formed then. As a baby, and even a child, your soul is still adapting, molding into the person you grow to be. Such close contact with the soul of another would mean certain elements from each one intertwined. The dangerous part is over, I think,” he added, when Harry looked alarmed. “He is not able to possess you anymore, or manipulate your mind. Yet you still have a bond, a connection. I think this is more of a blessing than a curse, Potter. It means you will receive some sort of warning if he is around, or if he is experiencing any extreme emotions.” Harry nodded. “I suggest you rejoin your friends now,” Snape said, stepping towards the door. “You will need all the support you can get.”  


 

* * *  


 

Harry followed Snape’s advice and sought out Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They spent the evening together, just talking idly. They did not talk about Remus, and Harry was glad. Talking about it would make it real, and he could not afford to give into his grief right now. He drew strength from his friends’ support, leaning on them in a way he had done for years. He had not let himself before – he had been too proud. Harry could see this now. He used to distance himself from his friends, lock away his grief and give way to anger instead. But he could not afford to do that now; Snape was right – he needed them.  


 

“Thank you,” Harry said suddenly, looking up from where he was sitting in the living room. Ron, Ginny and Hermione looked a him blankly.  


 

“For what?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.  


 

“For everything,” Harry replied simply. “You two…you _three,_ ” he added, smiling at Ginny, “have always been there. You’re here now, despite everything. And I’m really glad, because I _do_ need you. I thought it was better to do things on my own…I thought it would be safer. But I was wrong.” Ginny said nothing but gave his hand a squeeze. Hermione stood up and gave him one of her hugs, which were becoming worryingly similar to Mrs Weasley’s. Harry gasped in pain as his injured shoulder got squeezed..  


 

“That’s okay, Harry,” Hermione said warmly, oblivious to his pain. “What are friends for?”  


 

“So…we’re alright then?” Harry asked when she let go.  


 

“We’ve always been alright, you nut,” Ron said casually, throwing Harry a chocolate frog. Harry grinned at his friend. He needed them now and he would need them later. It had just taken him a while to realise it.  



	41. The Beginning of the End

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******40  
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******The Beginning of the End**   


 

 

“That’s not fair! I got distracted!” Ron exclaimed, as Harry swiped his queen. They were playing a game of wizard chess in the Gryffindor common room a day after leaving Grimmauld Place, but it seemed Hermione’s presence had managed to divert Ron’s attention away from the chess board.  


 

“That’s not my fault,” Harry said with a grin. “You should have been paying attention. _Constant vigilance_ , Weasley!”  


 

Ron scowled. “Fine. Don’t look at me like that again then, Hermione.”  


 

“Like _what_?” Hermione asked, in genuine confusion. She was writing an essay for Charms in between watching the game.  


 

“Like you were doing a minute ago,” Ron said exasperatedly. “You were doing that thing with your lips!”  


 

“ _What thing with my lips_?” Hermione said, her face a mask of bafflement.  


 

“Some kind of pouty thing,” Ron said dismissively. “It was distracting me.”  


 

“I think that’s just how Hermione looks when she’s concentrating,” Ginny said, trying to wipe the smile from her face.  


 

“Well, don’t concentrate then,” Ron said unreasonably. “You just made me lose to Harry!”  


 

“For the second time,” Harry pointed out with a grin. “I beat you over Christmas, remember?”  


 

“Yeah, but the first time I was distracted too, wasn’t I?”  


 

“Yes, by _Fleur_ ,” Hermione said with a scowl.  


 

“Well, at least I got distracted by _you_ this time, didn’t I?” Ron said, in what he hoped was a winning voice. Hermione sniffed and began to write again.  


 

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Harry said, standing up.  


 

“Already?” Ginny asked disappointedly. “It’s not that late yet.”  


 

“Yeah I know, I’m just really tired. I haven’t slept well since…well, I’m just a bit tired.” He gave Ginny a quick kiss and said goodnight to Ron and Hermione. He walked slowly upstairs to the boys’ dormitories and sat down on his bed, exhaling loudly. He changed quickly into his pajamas and got under his bed covers, closing his eyes tightly. This was the worst time of day for Harry; in the daytime and even evening, he could surround himself with his friends and take comfort from their support. Somehow, when he was with his two best friends and Ginny, things didn’t seem so bleak. But when he lay in bed, it was different. There was no-one to distract himself with, no-one to talk to.  


 

_Snap out of it, Harry_ , he told himself sternly. Nothing was going to come of moping around. Although the fact that he had now lost Remus had come dangerously close to breaking him, Harry could see that some good had come of it. It had given him the final nudge forward, the prompt he needed to finish it once and for all. It had put the fight back in him, and it burned inside him relentlessly. He hated Voldemort with a passion he did not believe could exist. Killing him would not be enough…Harry wanted to destroy him, as he had destroyed so many others. He sighed again and pushed his face deeper into his pillow.  


 

He awoke hours later, the moonlight streaming in from the curtains illuminating the room. He was sitting bolt upright in his bed, his sheets tangled around him and his face cold and sweaty. He did not know what had woken him; all he knew was that his heart was thumping with an unprecedented urgency, and his scar was giving small, irregular twinges. He screwed up his eyes and tried to remember what he had been dreaming, but nothing came to him. The only clue to what it had been about were the echoes of a high, cold laugh that still rang in his ears.  


 

“Harry?” Ron called sleepily from the next bed. “Are you alright? Did you have a dream?”  


 

“No,” Harry said simply, his voice quiet.  


 

“Is everything okay?” Neville’s voice said.  


 

“No.” Harry stood up, fumbling for his wand on the bedside table.  


 

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Ron asked warily, also climbing out of bed.  


 

“Something’s not right,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting across the dark room. “ _Lumos_ ”. He walked towards the window and looked out to the grounds. He could see nothing, but that did not quell the panic rising inside him.  


 

“What’s going on?” Seamus said, his voice muffled against his pillow. Dean clambered out of bed too, rubbing his eyes.  


 

“I don’t know,” Harry replied quietly. “But something’s wrong. I can feel it.”  


 

“You can _feel_ it?” Dean said, a vaguely doubtful expression crossing his face.  


 

“Well, this has happened before, hasn’t it?” Neville said, reaching for his wand too. “Harry usually knows when something’s not right.”  


 

“You didn’t have a dream, Harry?” Ron asked quietly.  


 

“I can’t remember one,” Harry replied truthfully. “But I could hear him. _Voldemort_. Laughing.” He lowered his voice. “This isn’t meant to be happening anymore, Ron, not now the Horcrux has gone. If I’m still feeling it then…well, it’s got to be something important, hasn’t it?”  


 

“Do you think we should alert the Order, then?” Ron asked, pulling on his dressing gown.  


 

Harry thought for a while. “Not yet,” he said finally. “We need at least something to go on. We can’t just wake them up and drag them down here because I woke up feeling weird.” Ron nodded.  
      
“Maybe we should alert the D.A?” Neville suggested. “Hermione made those coins that warn them, didn’t she?”  


 

“That’s not a bad idea, Neville,” Harry said slowly. “If any of them turn up, we can just say that we want to check the grounds quickly.” He paused. “Because I could be completely wrong about this. I could have just had a bad dream and not remembered it. It could be nothing. After all,” he said, lowering his voice so only Ron could hear, “I haven’t got the same connection to Voldemort anymore, have I?”  


 

“No, but you don’t think it’s nothing, do you?” Ron asked. “You think something’s out there, don’t you?” Harry nodded. Ten minutes later, Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus met up with Ginny, Hermione and Luna in the common room. Luna had been let in by Ginny.  


 

“Right, is this it?” Harry asked, looking around at the other seven people. Hermione nodded.  


 

“Don’t forget, Harry, that it’s the middle of the night – people aren’t going to have their coins on them, are they?”  


 

“I suppose not,” Harry agreed.  


 

“So what’s the plan?” Luna asked dreamily, looking at Harry with her head tilted to one side. “Ginny said something is wrong.” All seven heads flicked towards Harry.  


 

“Well, I don’t know exactly what’s wrong,” Harry admitted. “I woke up with my scar tingling…and there’s usually a reason for that. I think we should just have a look round, see if anything looks amiss. And if there is, we alert the Order. That okay with you lot?” Everyone nodded. “Right. Just stick together and we’ll be fine.”  


 

Harry led the way out of the common room and down the many sets of stairs until they reached the entrance hall. He slowly pushed the door open and squinted into the blackness. “I can’t see anything. Stay here.” He crept forward slightly, peering left and right where the castle walls obscured his vision. He pressed against the wall and inched slowly along. Suddenly, he heard loud breathing from beside him, and he whirled around, his wand raised. It was only Seamus.  


 

“Sorry,” Seamus muttered. “Just wanted to see what was going on.” Some kind of sixth sense must have alerted Harry then, because he threw Seamus to the ground roughly, flinging himself down on top of him. A jet of green light crashed into the wall where Seamus had stood only seconds earlier.  


 

“ _I told you to stay where you were_!” Harry snarled, pulling Seamus up and shoving him towards the entrance hall. Seamus was shaking visibly, looking in horror at the spot on the wall where the killing curse had hit. It was now smoking slightly. “Get inside, all of you!” Harry held the doors open and ushered the group inside, pulling a still-trembling Seamus along with him. He forced the doors shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily. “Well, I think this is a clear indication that something is not right,” he said, addressing everyone.  


 

“What are we going to do, Harry?” Hermione asked, her voice wavering slightly.  


 

Harry was silent. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “I don’t know how many of them there are out there. And Snape’s still got my invisibility cloak, so I can’t go out and check.”  


 

“Why’s Snape got your cloak?” Neville asked, his face confused.  


 

“I gave it to him. He’s on our side,” Harry said quickly.  


 

“Our side? But he killed Dumbledore!” Dean said incredulously. “Er…didn’t he?”  


 

“Yeah, but not in the way it looked like,” Harry said wearily. “I’ll explain later. We need to alert the Order of the Phoenix. I’m going to wake McGonagall. You lot should come with me – we should stick together right now.” Harry led the other seven back up the stairs and along the corridors, their running footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He screeched to a halt outside Dumbledore’s old office.  


 

“Fizzing Whizbee!” he shot at the gargoyle, and it sprung back to reveal the spiral staircase.  


 

“You know the password, Harry?” Dean asked, sounding surprised. Harry nodded silently and began to run up the stairs, the other seven staying nervously where they were. He knocked loudly on the door, and when it was not opened immediately he knocked again. It was pulled opened slowly, and Professor McGonagall stuck her head around, a frown etched on the harsh lines of her face.  


 

“What on earth is the meaning of this, Potter?” she asked, still frowning. “It’s three in the morning, you should –”  


 

“Professor, the school is under attack!” Harry interrupted quickly.  


 

“What do you mean?” Professor McGonagall said quietly, opening the door fully.  


 

“I woke up and knew something was wrong,” Harry said impatiently. “I went outside with some members of the D.A, and someone shot a killing curse at Seamus. It’s alright,” he added hastily when McGonagall paled, “it missed, but I think there’s a lot of Death Eaters out there. I think this is it, Professor. They’ve come to take over the school, and you know if they do that it’s all over. We need to get the Order here now.”  


 

Professor McGonagall stared at him in silent horror for a few seconds, and then seemed to pull herself together. “Right,” she said crisply, “I’ll do that. You and your friends should return to your common rooms – especially you, Potter. I don’t want to see you out there risking your life!”  


 

“Professor, didn’t you understand me?” Harry said quietly. “ _This is it_. This is where it all ends. I need to be out there.”  


 

Professor McGonagall passed a hand over her eyes, her mouth tight. “Your time has come,” she said simply. It was not a question.  


 

Harry nodded. “Yes.” He gave her a brief smile and turned to go, but McGonagall put a hand on his arm to stop him.  


 

“Harry,” she said, in an unusually soft voice. “Harry…good luck.”  


 

Harry nodded again. “Thanks.” He turned to go again, walking down the stairs to meet the others. “Right, the Order are on their way. You lot should go back to your common rooms now and stay there. You’ve helped already, thank you.” The other seven immediately broke out in protestation.  


 

“No way! You’re not sending us away, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed.  


 

“What’s the point in us learning all this stuff if we can’t practice it and defend ourselves when the time comes?” Neville asked reasonably.  


 

“This isn’t like our lessons last year!” Harry said angrily. “There are god knows how many Death Eaters out there now, maybe even Voldemort himself…do you realise how much danger you are in? Seamus almost got himself killed a second ago!”  


 

“We know the risks, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, “and we’re prepared for them. We’re all involved in this. You can’t do this alone.”  


 

“Face it mate, we’re not going anywhere,” Ron said firmly.  


 

Harry stared around the group. “Do you realise if you come out here with me there is a very good chance you will die?” he asked bleakly.  


 

“Everyone dies, Harry,” Luna said softly. “It’s just a question of how and when. I personally can’t think of a better way to go.” The others nodded at her words. Harry felt half furious and half proud.  


 

“Alright,” he said heavily. “But we’re not going anywhere until the order arrives, okay?”  


 

No sooner had he spoken then the Order members began to appear, walking quickly out of Professor McGonagall’s office. Evidently they had just flooed there. As well as the usual members there were many Harry had not seen before; it seemed that the Order was larger than he had anticipated. Mr Weasley was one of the first down the stairs, and he stopped next to the group.  


 

“You alright, Ron? Hermione?” he asked, giving his son a quick hug. They both nodded. Mr Weasley turned to Harry. “Harry, Professor McGonagall tells me that you’re going out there tonight…that it’s time.” Harry nodded. Mr Weasley gave him a quick hug too. “Stay with us, Harry. Don’t go running off by yourself.”  


 

“I won’t, Mr Weasley,” Harry replied. His attention was diverted then by the arrival of Snape, who was closely followed by Malfoy and his mother. “What are you doing here?” Harry shot at Malfoy, rather aggressively.  


 

Malfoy sneered. “What do you think we’re doing here, Potter? We’re hardly in the Dark Lord’s favour anymore, are we? Or did you expect us to saunter over to the other side and see what happens?”  


 

Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment. “You do realise your father will be out there, don’t you?” he asked quietly.  


 

A flicker passed over Malfoy’s face, but then he arranged it into an impassive stare. “I have no father, Potter,” he said brusquely, and turned away, following his mother. The entire group hurried down the stairs and waited in the entrance hall. Harry scanned the group appraisingly. As well as Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Bill, Charlie, Mr Weasley and the twins, there were many other stern looking members, and a small group of what looked like Ministry Aurors. A few Hogwarts teachers were there too; many were shooting Snape rather apprehensive looks, which he was ignoring.  


 

“Right,” growled Moody. “It seems the time has come. We’re going to stick together as we walk out, keeping our shields up at all times. If they follow the rules, they should not attack us until we are ready. However, you never know with the scum out there.” Narcissa flinched. “Potter, you’re to stay in the middle. No, don’t argue, you do as I say. Form a tight group now.” The group arranged themselves. Harry found himself stuck tightly between Moody and Kingsley, with Bill and Charlie flanking him.  


 

Bill gave Harry a strained smile. “You’ll be fine, Harry,” he said, although his face was very pale. Harry nodded in reply; his throat felt tight. Professor McGonagall raised her wand and the entrance hall doors swung open. The night was eerily quiet; not a sound came from outside, and even the breathing of the Order was quickly swallowed up by the velvety blackness. Harry looked to his left, and his heart began to thump madly. A huge group of Death Eaters were standing on the grounds, their hoods up and their masks out. Harry’s eyes darted madly over them, but he could not see Voldemort.  


 

“I never knew there were so many of them,” Charlie muttered, voicing what Harry was thinking. The Death Eaters made no attempt to hex any of them, which seemed to increase the tension. The Order walked across the grass and took their places opposite the Death eaters. An eerie silence fell, which was broken only by a loud bang a few metres away. Everyone’s head turned to see Hagrid run out of his cabin, followed by Fang.  


 

“Wai’ for meh!” Hagrid said, hurrying towards the Order members as fast as his bulk would let him. “Yeh’re not takin’ on a bunch o’ ruddy Death Eaters without meh!” Suddenly, a jet of green light soared from one of the Death Eaters, missing Fang by an inch. There was a loud silence, and then… “YEH TRIED TO KILL MEH DOG!” Hagrid roared, beginning to run towards the Death Eaters. “YEH COWARDS!”  


 

“Hagrid, _no_!” someone shouted from the Order, but Hagrid was not listening. He raised a huge hand and struck it through the air, lifting two Death Eaters off their feet and throwing them across the grounds. There was another brief silence, and then the curses began to come. Jets of red and green light hailed down on Hagrid, but they did not seem to have much effect; he was obviously in pain, but remained on his feet.  


 

“It’s his giant’s blood,” Tonks whispered. “His skin’s too tough for the spells to fully work.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly faded as the curses began to be sent towards them. He raised his wand higher, sensing the other members do the same. The Battle had begun…it was time.    


 

 

 

 

 

_Please review! Next chapter is being written right now, so keep checking …it should be up very very soon! :)_   



	42. The Greatest Power

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******The Greatest Power**   


 

 

The other students at Hogwarts were not oblivious to what was going on. Admittedly they had been sleeping, but no sooner had Hagrid voiced his anger over the attempted killing of his dog, than the first students began to wake. It did not take long for the whole school to be aware of what was happening. They clustered around the windows, whispering worriedly amongst themselves, whilst the teachers who were not in the Order attempted to regain some calm. Most students had run up to the Astronomy Tower or the battlements for a better view…and what a view it was. About fifty Death Eaters were shooting various hexes – most of them emitting a sinister green light – towards the other group, which consisted of some teachers, Aurors, and most significantly, Harry Potter. The two groups had started off in close-knit, tight groups, but as the battle progressed they began to break ranks, the two groups becoming scattered around the grounds. Harry had his shield raised constantly, only lowering it for a split-second in order to fire his own curses. Killing curses seemed to be directed at everyone except him, and he realised that Voldemort still thought he was a Horcrux and did not want him harmed.  


 

“ _Stupefy_!” he yelled, and felt a wave of satisfaction as a Death Eater collapsed to the ground. He whirled around, trying to keep track of who was with him. In the chaos the group had been divided, and Harry found himself a few metres away from the Forbidden Forest. Neville, Ginny, Hermione, Kingsley and Tonks were closest to him, and all were engaged in fierce duels. Harry felt a flicker of pride as Neville blocked a stunning spell, sending his own back in retaliation seconds later. Ginny was dueling a large blond Death Eater, who was taunting her, amusement in his voice.  


 

“Come on, my love, just give up…you can’t win this, little girl. Give up and I won’t harm you. I promise.” He laughed nastily. Ginny ignored him, and sent a jet of purple light at him. He blocked it, his face darkening with anger. “You know how to play then, my pretty? Good.” He sent a killing curse at her with astonishing speed, but Ginny’s reflexes were superb; she darted out of the way just in time, her red hair flying. Harry felt a surge of anger, and directed it at the Death Eater. He sent a stunning spell at him with such force that the Death Eater was blasted off his feet and thrown back several metres. His head hit the wall with a sickening crack, and he slumped down it slowly. He was clearly dead. There was a short silence while Harry and Ginny stared at the Death Eater, and then at each other.  


 

“Are you okay?” Harry yelled, and she nodded, her face pale. Harry looked to his left and saw Hermione stagger backwards as some sort of cutting spell slashed across her chest. With another surge of anger Harry stunned the masked Death Eater and hurried over to his friend.  


 

“Hermione!” he gasped, “are you okay?”  


 

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said weakly, trying to stand up. Her face was very pale.  


 

“ _Episkey_ ,” Harry murmured, tracing his wand along the visible gash. The wound began to knit but it was evident Hermione was still in pain; her breath was coming in gasps and her face was growing steadily paler. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I don’t know how to heal it. Do you?” Hermione shook her head weakly. “You need to go to Madam Pomfrey. Can you get there?” Hermione nodded, and Harry pulled her up. “Go quickly,” he ordered, and she obediently stumbled towards the castle. Harry only stopped watching when she reached the entrance hall and went inside. He turned his eyes back to the battle.  


 

It seemed people had spread even farther across the grounds, and no-one seemed to be attacking Harry. Harry felt infuriated by this; he was itching for a fight. About twenty metres in front of him he could see Professor McGonagall dueling fiercely with two Death Eaters. Harry ran towards them, sending a body-binding hex at one of them. He fell stiffly to the ground, and the other one whirled around to face Harry, his wand raised. When he realised who it was, however, he lowered it again and turned back to McGonagall.  


 

“ _Fight me_!” Harry snarled, pushing in front of Professor McGonagall roughly.  


 

“You will get your fight soon enough, Harry Potter,” the voice behind the mask drawled.  


 

“Malfoy!” Harry spat. “Why don’t you kill me? I know you want to…you know you want to…why not just do it now?”  


 

“Potter, _no_!” Professor McGonagall hissed.  


 

“You are not mine to kill,” Lucius Malfoy said idly. “And anyway, I daresay the Dark Lord has something else planned for you, Mr Potter.”  


 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Harry snarled.  


 

“You can’t seriously expect me to tell you?” Lucius Malfoy said, a smirk crossing his pointed face, so similar to his son’s. “Surely you don’t want me to spoil the surprise?”  


 

“You’re _filth_ ,” Harry spat, taking a step closer. “What kind of man abandons his family for the most foul person imaginable?”  


 

Malfoy’s face twisted. “Do not speak of what you do not understand, Potter! The Dark Lord offers more than you can dream of.”  


 

“And that’s more important than the lives of your wife and son?” Harry asked incredulously.  


 

“I have no wife or son,” Malfoy snarled, eerily echoing Draco’s earlier words. He raised his shield with impressive speed as Professor McGonagall shot a stunning spell at him. A sneer twisted his face and he raised his wand higher, pointing it at McGonagall. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”  


 

Harry reacted instinctively, shoving his Professor aside with all the strength he could muster. As a result she went flying, landing rather heavily on the grass.  


 

“Sorry, Professor!” Harry yelled, sending his own curses at Malfoy.  


 

“That’s quite alright, Potter,” she said weakly, pulling herself up.  


 

“Your dueling had improved, Potter, I’ll admit,” Malfoy said with a sneer. “But do not make the mistake of thinking you are unbeatable; I assure you, you are not.”  


 

“Then why don’t you beat me, Malfoy?” Harry spat. A sudden movement behind him caused him to spin around. Draco Malfoy and his mother stood behind Harry, looking at Lucius.  


 

“Hello, Father,” Draco said quietly. His wand was lowered, but Harry noticed that he was gripping it tightly.  


 

“Lucius, _listen to me_ ,” Narcissa Malfoy said imploringly, taking a small step towards him. “It is not too late. The Order have let Draco and myself stay, they have not condemned us for our previous choices. If you renounce the Dark Lord, they will accept you, I swear it!”  


 

“I will never renounce the Dark Lord, Narcissa,” Lucius Malfoy said coldly, staring at his wife impassively. “You have made your choice, and I have made mine. My loyalties lie with the Dark Lord.”  


 

“But what about us?” Narcissa cried. It was the first time Harry had ever seen her display any emotion. “It is not too late, Lucius! You can do the right thing – ” Her words were cut off as Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and stepped towards her.  


 

“I have always done the right thing, Narcissa,” he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. “I am doing it now. _Avada Kedavra_!”  


 

The curse hit Narcissa Malfoy in the middle of her chest, and she fell to the ground at once, her pale blonde hair fanning out under her head.  


 

“Mother!” Draco gasped, falling to his knees next to her and shaking her gently. When she did not stir he looked up at his father , his face blank. “You killed her,” he whispered. “You _killed_ her.”  


 

“It is my duty to kill all those who oppose the Dark Lord and threaten his power, Draco,” Lucius Malfoy said silkily. “You know that as well as I do.” He paused. “I give you one more chance, Draco. I do not want to kill you. Do you serve the Dark Lord, and only the Dark Lord?”  


 

Draco Malfoy stared at his father, an appalled look twisting his features. “After what you’ve done, you think I will join you?” he breathed. “YOU KILLED HER!” he yelled. “You killed her, you bastard! Well, fine! Kill me too! Go on, KILL ME!”  


 

A shadow passed over Lucius Malfoy’s face, but then it was gone. “Very well, Draco. You have made your choice.” He raised his wand. “ _Avada Keda_ – ” His words suddenly were cut off by another cry:  


 

“ _STUPEFY_!” Harry yelled, so loudly he thought his throat would tear. Lucius Malfoy slumped to the floor, unconscious. Harry waved his wand again and thick ropes began to wind themselves around Malfoy’s feet and arms.  


 

“You should have let him kill me,” Draco Malfoy said dully, still kneeling by his dead mother.  


 

Harry turned to face him. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said sincerely. Malfoy shrugged, his face tight. He seemed to be trying to hold back tears.  
   
“I can’t believe he killed her,” he said quietly. “I never thought he…I never thought…”  


 

“You know why he killed her though, don’t you?” Harry said urgently. “It was for Voldemort. It was because of Voldemort. You know that, don’t you Malfoy?” Malfoy nodded. “Voldemort killed my mother too,” Harry continued, “and my father. He needs to be stopped. We need your help, Draco.” He held out his hand to help him up. “Will you help us?”  


 

Malfoy paused for a few moments, his light eyes flickering over Harry’s outstretched hand. Then slowly he gripped it with his own, and clambered up. “This doesn’t make us friends, you know Potter.”  


 

Harry gave a short laugh. “I didn’t think it would, Malfoy. Believe it or not, gaining your friendship is not high up on my list of priorities right now.” He scanned the grounds. “Most people seem to be up this way,” he said pointing to his right. “We should go.” He paused and looked at Malfoy. “You made the right choice, Malfoy.”  


 

“You think?” Malfoy said insipidly. “Well, time will tell.” The two boys sprinted towards the crowds. Harry heard people screaming his name, and he looked around worriedly. _Who was in danger_?  


 

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy spat, “it’s just your adoring fans.” He gestured with his hand and Harry looked up. It seemed as though the whole school was crowded on the battlements and towers, and were watching the battle with fear and anticipation.  


 

“Go on, Harry! You can do it!” a voice cried, and Harry glanced up to see Colin and Dennis Creevey waving at him excitedly.  


 

“Sure you don’t want to run up and sign some autographs, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.  


 

“Ha ha,” Harry said sarcastically. They reached the others and Harry searched for his friends. There was no sign of Hermione – presumably she was in the hospital wing – but Ron and Neville were dueling with two Death Eaters. Harry was about to run towards them and help when he stopped, his heart pounding.  


 

“…Harry…”  


 

He spun around. Ginny was slumped against the wall of the castle, her face deathly pale.  


 

“Ginny!” Harry gasped. “What happened? Are you okay?”  


 

“I’ve been better,” she said with a small smile. She tried to sit up properly but winced. “It was Wormtail. He did some kind of curse…it hurts here,” she gestured to her chest, “when I breathe…”  


 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “ _Wormtail_ ,” he spat. “I’m going to kill him.” He looked back at Ginny. “Listen, Gin, you stay here. I’m going to get you some help. Okay?” She nodded weakly. Harry kissed her gently on the forehead. “I love you Ginny,” he whispered.  


 

“Love you too, Harry,” she murmured in reply. Harry jumped to his feet and ran over to where Ron and Neville were.  


 

“Ron, let me take over!” he yelled. “Ginny’s been hurt, bring Madam Pomfrey out…it makes more sense for her to be out here with everyone than inside!” Ron nodded and began to run towards the castle. _“Stupefy_!” Harry quickly sent a jet of red light soaring towards the Death Eater closest to him. The Death Eater dodged, and pulled off their mask. It was Bellatrix Lestrange.  


 

“Hello again, Harry Potter!” she said, her eyes glinting madly. “I’m back, you see? Azkaban is nothing to what is waiting for you…ah, how I’m looking forward to watching it happen…”  


 

“What are you talking about?” Harry snarled.  


 

“I cannot tell you, Harry Potter,” she said, a mad grin spreading over her face. “But you shall see. When the Dark Lord comes, you shall see.” Harry stared at her. What was she referring to? Lucius Malfoy had done the same thing…clearly Voldemort had a plan that did not involve his death…but what was it?  


 

“You’re not going to touch Harry! CRUCIO!”  


 

Harry had forgotten Neville was there. He stared in amazement as Neville held Bellatrix under the Cruciatus curse, his face twisted in fury. “THIS IS FOR MY PARENTS!” he screamed, glaring down at the woman writhing and screaming on the ground. “THIS IS FOR WHAT YOU DID TO THEM!”   


 

Harry let him continue for a short while, and then grabbed his wrist. “Alright, Neville…that’s enough,” he said quietly, pulling his wrist down. “Neville, _that’s enough_!” he repeated firmly when Neville tried to raise his wand again. “Tie her up. She’ll be sent back to Azkaban. And this time she won’t be able to escape.” Neville nodded stiffly, and waved his wand. Ropes immediately shot out and bound Bellatrix tightly. Harry moved forward again, trying to count how many Death Eaters there were compared to Order members. To his intense relief it seemed as though the Death Eaters were outnumbered. A few bodies lay on the grass, and Harry was thankful it was dark and he could not see their faces. He did not want to see who had fallen. His eyes searched for Wormtail, eager to make him pay for what he had done to his parents, to Sirius, to Remus…to Ginny. As if in slow motion, his eyes found what they were looking for. Wormtail was dueling Kingsley Shacklebolt, his sharp, rat-like face quivering with agitation. His silver hand – that horrible, silver hand – caught the moonlight, and Harry ran forward, his wand raised and an expression of pure loathing on his face. He could not hear what curse Wormtail sent at Kingsley, but he saw with sickening horror the all-too familiar green light shoot towards its target. With astonishing agility and speed Kingsley ducked, but Wormtail sent out another curse immediately after. Kingsley tried to dodge again, but his luck had run out. The curse hit him straight on the chest and he dropped to the floor like a stone.  


 

“No!” Harry gasped. He began to run forward, hearing Neville at his heels. “Pettigrew!” he snarled, raising his wand. Pettigrew turned to face him, his own wand raised. Just as Harry opened his mouth to try and curse Wormtail, an impossibly loud silence fell over the grounds. Even the students watching from the castle were silenced. Wormtail lowered his wand and turned away, his pointed face twitching in fear. Harry’s scar gave a slight twinge, and somehow he knew that had the Horcrux still been inside him, he would be on his knees in absolute agony.  
Lord Voldemort had arrived. Harry could not see him, but he knew it with utter certainty.  


 

“Harry, what’s happened?” Neville whispered, fear passing over his face.  


 

“He’s here,” Harry murmured though lips that were numb. From the corner of his eye he saw Ron run out from the entrance hall, followed by Madam Pomfrey. They both stopped as they came outside, obviously thrown by the sudden, absorbing silence.  


 

And then…and then Harry saw him. Walking smoothly through the crowd, walking as though he were gliding. Both the Order members and the Death Eaters parted for him, made way for him. No-one dared to stand in his way. Everyone realised that this was not their battle anymore. There was no point in fighting amongst themselves anymore; the outcome of the battle and the future of the wizarding world lay in the hands of two men. One walked calmly towards the other; tall, thin and pale, his glittering red eyes giving away no emotion as he advanced on his enemy. The other stood where he was, seemingly rooted to the spot. He too was tall and slim, but his eyes were vivid green, not red, and they stared with hate and horror at the man approaching him.  
                                                                                                
The few people  that still stood between Harry and Voldemort scattered quickly, including Wormtail. To Harry’s left the Death Eaters had grouped, and to his right were the Order members. They all stood about fifteen feet from him, leaving him feeling horribly exposed and alone. Voldemort walked slowly and deliberately towards Harry, the faintest of smiles flicking across his snake-like face. Harry felt his stomach clench. It didn’t feel real. It felt as though he were inside one of his nightmares. Dumbledore was not here to save him this time. Harry’s wand pointed uselessly at the ground; he tried to move but his feet seemed glued to the grass.  


 

“ _Your wand, Potter_!” Snape’s voice echoed in his head. Harry’s eyes darted around, but he could not see him anywhere. Harry realised he must be hiding somewhere. “ _Raise – your – wand_!”  


 

Harry’s body finally obeyed his mind, and he snatched his hand up, crossing his wand over his chest. Someone jostled at Harry’s shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to see Neville standing by his side. He was shaking visibly as he gazed upon the monstrosity that was Voldemort, but his face was set.  


 

“I’m with you, Harry,” he said in a trembling voice. “I won’t let him kill you.”  


 

“Neville,” Harry said, in a voice that was very quiet. “I appreciate you saying that more than I can tell you…but this is my fight now.”  


 

“No…” Neville said, shaking his head. Harry saw the Order members press closer, huddled tightly together. All the Weasleys, apart from Molly, were watching the scene, expressions of horror and fear on their faces. Ron caught Harry’s eye and stared at him wordlessly. He made to move forward but Harry shook his head. “No,” he mouthed at Ron, and Ron stepped back obediently. “Neville, leave me,” Harry said again. “ _This is not your fight_. You cannot help.” Neville stood back silently, his lower lip trembling as Lord Voldemort approached. Voldemort stopped a few feet away from Harry, fingering his wand in his pale, thin fingers.  


 

“Hello, Harry Potter,” he said quietly, his red eyes burning into Harry’s. Harry held his gaze defiantly, refusing to look away. “Here we are…yet again. You do have rather a good knack for escaping, don’t you?” Harry said nothing. “So many times, Harry…so many times I’ve almost had you, almost killed you. But I never managed to, did I? Things are different now, however…are they not?” Still Harry said nothing. “Oh Harry, don’t be shy…speak up. Can you tell me why things are different now?”  


 

“Because Dumbledore’s dead,” Harry said stiffly.  


 

Voldemort gave a short laugh. “Yes, Harry. He is dead. And who will save you now? Not any of this lot,” he said, waving his hand lazily and indicating the Order members. “They are not stupid…they know this is between you and I now. And they know what would happen if they dared to try and interfere.” He indicated his Death Eaters to Harry’s left. “No, only Dumbledore would be foolish enough – and powerful enough, I grant you - to interfere. What will Harry Potter do without his favourite teacher to come and rescue him?”  


 

“Maybe I don’t need rescuing anymore, Tom!” Harry spat, glaring at Voldemort aggressively.  


 

Voldemort smiled horribly. “There’s that courage again. I must confess, I admired it your parents, and I admire it in you.” He reached out a hand and cupped Harry’s chin. “Ah, rather a handsome boy now, aren’t you Harry? You just look like your father.”  


 

Harry jerked his head away. “Don’t you talk about my father,” he spat. Without thinking about it, he acted instinctively, pushing Voldemort away from him. Several people gasped. Obviously Voldemort was not expecting it, and he staggered backwards. Two of his Death Eaters stepped forward, their wands raised, but Voldemort dismissed them with a wave of his hand.  


 

“That was foolish, Potter,” Voldemort said quietly, taking another step towards him. “I see you are eager for a display of Muggle dueling. Perhaps you are taking after your filthy Muggle mother.” Harry glowered at him but said nothing. Voldemort smiled again. “I am going to destroy you, Harry Potter. I am going to destroy you like I should have done sixteen years ago, when you were just a baby. Strange, isn’t it, how these things work. You are the Chosen One, but only because I made you so. Rather odd, don’t you think?”  


 

“You’re not going to kill him!” roared a voice, and Harry closed his eyes in horror as Neville stepped forward, wand raised. An amused smile flicked over Voldemort’s face.  


 

“Longbottom, is it?” When Neville did not reply Voldemort’s grin widened horribly. “I thought as much. _Crucio_!” With a lazy flick of his wand he sent Neville screaming to the ground, the pain causing his body to spasm violently. His screams were swallowed into the night, but not before they had been heard by all who were watching. A shudder went through the crowd and Harry flinched at Neville’s pain.  


 

“STOP IT!” he yelled at Voldemort, taking a step forward. Voldemort lifted the curse immediately, although his eyes were fixed on Harry.  


 

“Are you sure about that, Harry?” he asked softly. “Perhaps if I carry on long enough he can join his parents in St Mungo’s. Don’t you think he would want that?”  


 

“ _Don’t you touch him_ ,” Harry said through clenched teeth. Voldemort lowered his wand, not looking at Neville.  


 

“Longbottom needn’t have worried though, Harry. I’m not going to kill you.” Harry said nothing, guessing what was coming, but focusing on keeping his face impassive. “Killing you would be very foolish of me, Harry Potter. Very foolish indeed. Do you know why that is?”  


 

“No,” Harry lied.  


 

“No, I thought you wouldn’t,” Voldemort said leisurely. “I wonder if you have ever heard of a Horcrux, Harry?”  


 

Harry tried to keep his face blank. “No.”  


 

“No? Well, perhaps I should explain. You see, Harry, a Horcrux is made when a wizard extracts part of their soul, and stores it in an object. This means that if that wizard is killed, he can never truly die, because half his soul is still animate. So if the right steps were taken, he could come back to life. Do you follow me?”  


 

“Yes,” Harry said, trying to fix a worried look on his face.  


 

“But it would be very easy to destroy that one Horcrux, would it not? Would it not be better to make several, to counter any that are destroyed?” Harry said nothing. “You see, that is what I have done. I have gone further down the path to immortality than anyone. Would you like to try and guess how many Horcruxes I have made, Harry?”  


 

Harry shrugged dismissively. “Ten?” he said, his voce ringing with derision.  


 

Voldemort smiled. “Close, Harry. Very close. I made seven Horcruxes.” A whisper of horror passed through the crowd, and Harry saw many Order members look at each other in appalled disbelief. Voldemort’s leer broadened. “Yes, seven. Do you not understand what that means, Potter? I cannot die. You cannot kill me.” He took a step forward. “Regrettably, one Horcrux has been destroyed.” Harry thought of the snake, and tried to stop a smirk from forming on his face. “But it matters not,” Voldemort continued. “I have others left. Including one that is very special to me. Can you guess where it is?”  


 

“No.”  


 

Voldemort raised a finger to Harry’s forehead and stroked his scar, almost fondly. A distant, muffled pain shut through Harry’s body, but he screwed up his face as though he were in agony, knowing it was what Voldemort expected. “Yes, Harry,” Voldemort hissed. “ _It’s you_.” Whispers ran through the crowd, faces looked at each other in horror. “Did you never wonder why there was this connection between us?”  


 

“Yes…” Harry breathed. “I wondered…”  


 

“It is because a seventh of my soul lies inside you, Harry Potter, just as your blood now runs in my veins. We are like brothers, are we not?” Harry said nothing, but his face twisted into an expression of utter hate. “So you see why I cannot kill you. You see my dilemma. I am already one Horcrux short…I cannot afford to let another one go. But what to do? I can hardly let you saunter off with back to school with your little friends, can I?”    


 

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said.  


 

Voldemort laughed quietly. “No, I think now. You see, Harry, you have a rather nasty habit of interrupting me…of holding me back. We cannot let this go on any longer now, can we? So I came up with a plan.” He stepped closer to Harry, so close that Harry could see his face reflected in those awful scarlet eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Draught of Living Death?”  


 

“Yes,” Harry replied stiffly. His heart had begun to thump madly again.  


 

“It is the most powerful sleeping potion in the world, Harry,” Voldemort said softly. He plunged a hand into his robes and drew out a very small bottle of colourless liquid. “It looks harmless, doesn’t it? But one spoonful of this will put you in a sleep so deep that it is unknown when you will wake. Of course,” he added with another smile, “you be drinking more than a spoonful. I think perhaps the whole bottle should do it. Do you know what will happen to you then, Harry?”  


 

“No.”  


 

“Your heart will stop beating. Your brain will stop working. Your blood will stop flowing. You will cease to be, Harry Potter. You will fade away like the insignificant fool you are…but you will not be quite dead. So you see how perfect this is? You will never be able to irk me again, you will never attempt to hold me back with your foolish, reckless plans. But still my soul will live on in you, protected by your empty body and your hollow mind.” Harry felt a wave of horror and fear go through him as Voldemort raised the vial of potion. “ _Drink to me, Harry Potter_.”     


 

Harry took a step back. “You must be joking,” he whispered.  


 

“You will not comply?” Voldemort asked quietly.  


 

Harry shook his head. “Never.”  


 

Voldemort raised his wand. “So be it. _Avada Kedavra_!” Harry made a move to duck, but the curse was not meant for him. It hit the person standing closest to him, the person standing behind him. Neville Longbottom dropped to the ground with a soft thud. His eyes were open and stared unseeingly at the dark night sky, his round face forever young, forever wasted.  


 

“ _No_!” Harry whispered, dropping to his knees beside Neville. “Neville!”  


 

“I can do it again, Harry,” Voldemort said coldly, ignoring the horrified gasps that whispered throughout the grounds. “And again and again and again. Who shall it be next? Your blood traitor friend over there?” he said, pointing his wand at Ron, who paled. “The filthy Mudblood over there?” he said, pointing this time to Hermione, who was leaning against the wall of the castle next to Madam Pomfrey. Ginny was beside her. Both their faces were masks of terror as Voldemort pointed his wand at them. “Or perhaps the pretty little redhead next to her. I wonder who would hurt you most?” He turned his eyes back to Harry. “What is your choice, Harry? Will you stand there and let even more people die because of your foolish stubbornness?”  


 

Harry stared into the inhuman red eyes. “Fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll drink it.”  


 

“I thought you might,” Voldemort said softly. “You are like that. You have always been like that. I admire that in a man, Harry. You should know that, before you go.” He raised the potion to Harry’s face. Harry snatched it from him.  


 

“I can do it myself!” he snarled, although his voice shook.  


 

Voldemort smiled mockingly. “I’m sure you can.” Harry raised the bottle to his lips. He had no choice. He emptied the contents into to his mouth at once, but did not swallow it. He dropped the empty bottle on the grass. “Good boy,” Voldemort said softly. He raised a hand to Harry’s cheek, and Harry jerked his head away. Voldemort smiled. “Now swallow it, Harry. Come on, it’s easy…”  


 

Harry looked at the group of Order members to his right. Ron was staring at him in horror, shaking his head. The faces of those who had supported him, who were on his side were blank, their mouths open and their eyes uncomprehending. _Someone help me,_ Harry thought desperately.  


 

“ _Don’t drink it, Potter_!” Snape’s voice suddenly reverberated in Harry’s head, so loud he could not believe that no one else could hear it. “ _Don’t drink it_!”  


 

Turning back to Voldemort, Harry quickly spat the potion onto the grass with venom. “NO!” he shouted, raising his wand.  


 

Voldemort’s face darkened in anger. “What do you attempt to do, Harry Potter?” he spat. “I have already told you…I AM IMMORTAL!”  


 

_No you’re not_ , Harry thought violently. He raised his wand higher. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” A jet of green light slammed into Voldemort’s chest. He staggered backwards, but did not fall. He was silent for a moment, and then stepped forward.  


 

“You cannot do it, Potter!” Voldemort cried, his face twisting into a taunting smile. “You cannot do it! I told you, Harry! I told you! I have the best of both worlds now…I have my human form back, but I cannot die!”  


 

“ _You’re not human_!” Harry snarled, feeling his blood boil at Voldemort’s mockery. “You’re _nothing_!” There was a sinking feeling at the bottom of his stomach, however, that told him Voldemort was right…not in that he could not die, but that Harry could not produce the killing curse. He didn’t think he could do it anymore. That hate, the anger, the disgust – all the emotions that meant he was able to commit the killing curse previously – had lessened since the Horcrux had gone. That must mean he couldn’t do it. He had failed. Harry stared at Voldemort in horror, stared at the chaos and destruction he had caused the place Harry had loved most, stared at the bodies strewn around the grass, stared at the crowds staring in shock and fear. It could not end like this. It would not end like this. Without thinking what he was doing, Harry raised his wand again. “ _Expelliarmus_!”  


 

Voldemort was still laughing, obviously not expecting an attack. His wand sailed into Harry’s hand. Voldemort did not look dismayed, however; on the contrary, he looked rather amused.  


 

“What are you going to do, Harry Potter? Jinx me with a juvenile hex, as I hear is your blood traitor girlfriend’s specialty. Or perhaps you will send a jelly-legs jinx my way?”  


 

Harry felt anger lick his insides at this slur on Ginny. He thought of how her face looked when he left her – pale, frightened…beautiful. He could not let her die. He could not let it end like this. What was it that Dumbledore had said that night last summer? Harry’s greatest power…his greatest power was love.  


 

He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists, Voldemort’s laugher ringing in his ears. He thought of how Voldemort had laughed that very same laugh almost sixteen years ago, when he had murdered Harry’s parents. He thought of his mother and his father…the parents who had loved him enough to lay down their lives for him without a second thought…the parents he had never known because of the man standing in front of him. He pictured their faces in his mind, and tears sprang up behind his eyelids.  


 

He pictured the wasted, once-handsome face of his godfather, of the man who had lost most of his life in Azkaban, and lost the remainder trying to save Harry’s life. He thought of Dumbledore …of the warm, twinkling blue eyes that he would never see again…of the man who was the epitome of goodness, the man who would have given anything to help Harry, given anything to protect him. He thought of Remus Lupin, last of the true Marauders, last of his father’s loyal friends. He had supported Harry when no others could, knowing how dangerous it was. He thought of Neville Longbottom, of the boy who had been a true friend, right to the very end, whose life had been cut short like so many others.  


 

Harry could not let all this be in vain. He could not let all those who had been killed die for nothing. He felt the anger, the pain and the love swell up inside him like the rage of a wild animal caged; he felt it take over his body, his mind…his soul. It was a still night, but a sudden breeze whispered through grounds, whipping his hair from his forehead, blowing his robes back behind him.

 

He had a future, a future with Ginny. And Voldemort was not going to take that from him, the way he had taken everything else. Holding the faces of those he had loved and lost in his mind, he gazed at Voldemort, with a burning intensity in his eyes. Tears sparkled in their depths, and a cruel leer spread over Voldemort’s face as he noticed Harry’s apparent weakness. Harry did not even register it. He could not give Voldemort any time. He felt a sudden surge of power run through him, power that he knew was not all his. His fingers tingled with unspent magic, and he knew he was not alone. Those Voldemort had killed were with him, with him in his very body. It was their power in Harry’s body, their power burning to gain their final revenge on the man that had destroyed them. In a space of milliseconds he had raised his wand and shouted two words, his voice ringing loud and clear into the dark night.  


 

_“Avada Kedvara!”_   


 

The green light that shot out from the end of his wand was so strong and so bright that he was forced to shield his eyes. The curse hit Voldemort right in his chest. There was no look of anger on his face, no look of fury or resentment…there was only surprised blankness as he was blasted off his feet. He seemed to take an age to fall, his body silhouetted against the blinding green light, his limbs splayed. His black robes drifted through the air behind him, flickering in the wind, and reminding Harry strangely of the veil in the Department of Mysteries. His body hit the grass heavily, although the sound was quiet. Absolute silence fell, and Harry fought to keep his eyes open as a sudden tiredness sweep over him. He must have swallowed a bit of the Draught of Living Death, but the thought was dull in his mind. His body wasn’t working properly. He looked unseeingly at the lifeless body in front of him. His legs suddenly gave way and he fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.  


 

_“Harry! Harry!”_ __  


 

Voices were shouting his name, but Harry did not look up. He was so tired. He wondered vaguely how much of the potion had managed to slip down his throat. He stared uncomprehendingly at Voldemort’s body. It was over. He’d done it. He felt arms go around him, felt someone pulling him up, but he saw nothing except for the broken body at his feet. It was over.  


 

“Harry! Harry, look at me!”  


 

Harry forced his eyes away. He knew that voice. “Ginny,” he said softly, although her face was strangely blurred. “Ginny…” He felt her arms go around him tightly.  


 

“Harry!” She was sobbing on his shoulder, crying as if her heart had broken. “Harry, _you did it!”_  


 

Harry felt a sudden pain in his heart, an ache that came from deep within him, and tears sprang into his eyes too. “Ginny…” he whispered again, not knowing what else to say. It was over. He leaned his face onto her shoulder as his tears spilled, as his hate, his anguish, his sorrow poured out through his tears. He could not say why he was crying. He was not happy, and he was not sad. He just felt every emotion that he had ever felt - all the pain, all the torment -  rise up inside him, and leave him through his tears. He leaned into Ginny, blackness beginning to veil his eyes. As his legs gave way again, as darkness obscured his vision, only one thought spun madly in his mind.  


 

_It was over._   


 

 

 

 

 

Well...what do you think? First things first...THIS IS NOT THE END! So make sure you keep checking for more chapters...there should be at least two more.This was really hard to write b/c i'm not very good at doing action sequences, and also because i'm not actually sure how harry is going to kill voldemort. Anyway, hope it didnt disappoint, and as always...please REVIEW! 

Selene  



	43. Picking up the Pieces

  
**43  
** ****

 

******Picking up the Pieces**   


 

 

As soon as Harry fell from Ginny’s arms, she knew that she had lost him. She knew he was not dead, she knew he would recover, but she knew that the Harry he would be when he woke would be different. He would not be the Harry she fell in love with. Part of him had died with Voldemort, and he would never be the same again. The silence that had broken after Voldemort hit the ground returned when Harry collapsed. People watching could hardly believe what they had seen, hardly understand what they had heard. They watched as the girl struggled to hold him up, they watched as the Boy Who Lived dropped to the floor unconscious.  


 

“Somebody help me!” the girl cried, and after a short pause, people began to step forward. Harry was lifted into the air, held on people’s shoulders, and they walked slowly to the castle. Never had anyone heard such a silence. It was a heavy, consuming silence…it was the silence of death. The students watching from the castle said nothing, just stared down at the body of their classmate as he was lifted inside the school. Harry was placed gently onto a bed in the hospital wing, many hands smoothing out his pillow and brushing the hair back from his forehead.  


 

* * *  


 

“I can't believe it.” Mrs Weasley was sitting next to Harry, her face pale and tight as she clutched one of Harry’s limp hands. “I can't believe it.”  


 

“He did it, Mum,” Bill said, looking down at Harry.  


 

“But at what cost?” Molly cried, her face anguished. “What if he…what if…”  


 

“He won't die, Mum,” another voice said quietly. Ginny was sitting on the other side of Harry, gazing at his impassive face intently. “I know he won't.”  


 

“How do you know?” Mrs Weasley whispered.  


 

Ginny looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Because he can't,” she said simply.  


 

“Let’s stop with all this talk of dying,” Madam Pomfrey said, pushing between Ron and Hermione and laying a damp cloth on Harry’s forehead. “There’s been enough death today.” Her eyes darted out into the grounds where the bodies of those who had fallen still lay. She looked back at Harry, an almost fond expression passing over her face. “This boy has been in and out of the hospital wing more than any other pupil. Hopefully that will stop now.”  


 

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ron mumbled. Hermione gave him a smile and took his hand in hers.    


 

“Anyway,” Madam Pomfrey continued, “you said he didn’t swallow the Draught?”  


 

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “For a few moments I thought he would…he poured it in his mouth…all of it. And then You-Know-Who kept touching him…kept touching his face.” She shuddered. “But then he suddenly spat it out. I don’t know what made him change his mind.”  


 

Hermione looked up into the other corner of the hospital wing, where Snape was giving some students, including Draco Malfoy, various calming and healing potions. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly.  


 

Snape turned to face her, his face blank. “What was me, Miss Granger?” he asked loftily.  


 

“You spoke to Harry, in his head, didn’t you? You told him not to drink it.”  


 

Snape paused. “Yes.”  


 

Hermione looked at him silently for a few seconds. “Thank you,” she whispered finally. Snape nodded, and turned back to the other students.  


 

“Do you know what the death toll is, Minerva?” Mr Weasley asked, in a voice that shook slightly.  


 

Professor McGonagall shook her head. “Not for certain,” she said weakly. “As far as I know there were five fatalities on our side, but I do not know if we will discover more. I hope to Merlin that we do not.”  


 

“Who were the five fatalities?” Charlie asked quietly.  


 

Professor McGonagall dabbed her eyes. “Narcissa Malfoy, Kingsley Shacklebolt, two Ministry Aurors and Neville Longbottom.”  


 

“I can't believe Neville’s dead,” Ron said slowly, looking at his hands. “I just…I can't believe it.” Mrs Weasley leaned over and drew her youngest son into a tight embrace. For a few seconds he resisted, but then he buried his head on her shoulder, his eyes screwed up tightly.  


 

“He will be honoured,” Professor McGonagall said, and everyone nodded. “He was so brave. Poor Neville.” Her eyes fell back to the unconscious Harry. “And poor Harry. Poor, poor Harry,” she whispered.  


 

* * *  


 

Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the bright light. He could hear voices and just about make out blurred outlines of people beside him. A face leaned over Harry, and he blinked again. The face slowly came into focus…but surely he was still dreaming…? He could see a long beard, a crooked nose and light eyes that were staring down into his behind their glasses.  


 

“Professor Dumbledore?” he murmured.  


 

The face laughed. “You’re half right, lad. I’m Aberforth, Albus’s brother.”  


 

Harry blinked again, and his vision cleared. He found himself staring at the barman of the Hogshead, but he was smiling, something Harry had not seen him do before. “You run the Hogshead,” he mumbled.  


 

“I do indeed. That was always rather useful for Albus…you wouldn’t believe the amount of gossip that goes on in there. Came in rather useful. You remember how Albus found out about your defence group last year?” Harry paused, remembering how the barman had seemed to be listening to the conversation, wiping the same glass over and over again with a grubby towel. He also remembered how the man had seemed familiar to him, reminded him of someone. He realised now that it had been Professor Dumbledore. There were differences between them, of course, but now he realised that they were brothers he could not understand how he could have missed it. Aberforth had grey hair where Albus’s was white, and his nose was not quite as crooked, but the similarities were obvious once you knew.  


 

“You did stuff to goats,” he muttered, his brain still not functioning properly.  


 

Aberforth gave a delighted laugh. “Yes, I did! Did Albus tell you about that?” Harry nodded. “Yes, inappropriate charms on a goat…of course,” he added hastily, “that was back in my youth.” He sighed nostalgically.  


 

“Why didn’t I know you were Dumbledore’s brother?” Harry asked. “Whenever we went in you didn’t seem…well, you were really…”  


 

“Grumpy?” suggested Aberforth with a small smile, and Harry nodded. “Of course I was grumpy, boy! Couldn’t go around chatting and making small talk, could I? Had to blend in, seem unthreatening.” When Harry looked blank the old man sighed. “I was a spy, Harry! For the Order. Surely you knew that?”  


 

“Oh yeah,” Harry said with a small nod.  


 

“Tried to talk to you at the funeral,” Aberforth continued. “Wanted to see if I could help you. But you ran off.”  


 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t really want to talk to anyone.”  


 

Aberforth nodded, looking at Harry intently. “He held you in very high regard, you know,” he said quietly. “Cared about you a lot. And now I understand why.” There was another silence, broken by another voice.  


 

“Harry?”  


 

Harry looked away from Aberforth, and realised to his surprise that they were not the only ones in the room. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting around his bed, smiling at him shakily. He smiled back weakly, and at once Mrs Weasley leaned forward and flung her arms around him. Harry gasped in pain, and she immediately let go, looking rather shamefaced.  


 

“Oh Harry dear, I’m sorry…did I hurt you?”  


 

“It’s okay, Mrs Weasley,” Harry managed, trying not to wince. “I’m just a bit sore, that’s all.” There was a silence as everyone just stared at him. “What?” Harry asked.  


 

“What?” Ron repeated dumbly. “Harry, don’t you remember what happened?”  


 

Harry paused. “Yes,” he said shortly.  


 

“Aren’t you…aren’t you happy, Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively. “Aren’t you proud of yourself?”  


 

Harry was silent for a while. “Neville’s dead,” he said hollowly.  


 

“Yes, Harry, he is,” Mr Weasley said, leaning forward. “But how many more would have died had you not destroyed You-Know-Who? You did it, Harry. You are a hero.” He pulled out a folded newspaper and placed it in Harry’s hands.  


 

_“HARRY POTTER DEFEATS YOU-KNOW-WHO! DARK LORD FINALLY VANQUISHED!”_   


 

Harry glanced at the headline and handed it back to Mr Weasley wordlessly. Ginny took one of his hands in hers and gave it a little squeeze.  


 

“They want to give you an Order of Merlin, first class,” Ron said, sounding slightly awed. “You’re the youngest person in history to get one.”  


 

“I don’t want it,” Harry said dully. There was an awkward silence.  


 

“Dumbledore received one when he defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald,” Hermione said quietly.  


 

“That’s different,” Harry said.  


 

“Is it?” Aberforth asked lightly. “If I remember rightly, Grindelwald was not a patch on Lord Voldemort when it comes to the dark wizard stakes.” He gave a small chuckle. “I doubt Grindelwald had ever even heard of a Horcrux.”  


 

Harry looked up quickly. “Does everyone…does everyone know about the Horcruxes?” he asked quietly.  


 

Ginny nodded. “Yes. We all heard what You-Know-Who,” she paused and shook her head angrily, “what _Voldemort_ was saying to you.”  


 

“So they know that one of them was in me?” Harry asked. Ginny nodded again.  


 

“Harry dear, I don’t know why you didn’t tell us!”  


 

Harry shrugged. “Sorry.”  


 

“Anyway,” Aberforth said pleasantly, “the reason I’m here in the first place, Harry, is to tell that you that there will be a reading of Dumbledore’s will at the Hogshead next week. I suggest you attend.” He gave Harry a small wink. Harry felt himself flush as everyone’s eyes turned to him.  


 

“I told you he’d leave you something!” Ron said triumphantly. He caught Aberforth’s eye and looked rather embarrassed. “Er…sorry.”  


 

Aberforth chuckled. “That’s quite all right. Anyway Harry, I expect to see you there!” He ruffled Harry’s hair and strode from the room, his long grey hair floating after him.  


 

* * *  


 

“Alright, Harry?” Ron asked quietly as Harry tied up his shoelace. “You’re definitely up for leaving the hospital wing?”  


 

“I’m fine, Ron, really,” Harry said, straightening up. “I just want to get out of bed, I’ve been stuck here for four days…that’s quite enough. Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go.” Hermione and Ron darted slightly anxious looks at each other, but followed him out of the hospital wing and along the corridor. Harry was clasping Ginny’s hand unusually tightly. The halls were deserted; everyone was having dinner in the Great Hall. As they reached the large wooden doors that led to the hall Harry stopped, listening to the chatter from within.  


 

“You going to have to face everyone soon, Harry,” Ginny said softly. “You can't hide away forever.”  


 

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “You three go in front of me.” Ron, Hermione and Ginny stepped in front of him and pushed open the doors. Several people glanced up as the doors entered, looking away again when they saw who it was. However, as Harry stepped reluctantly in, the heads slowly flicked back, and whispers began to rustle through the hall. No one stood up for a better look, as they had done earlier in the year. They just sat there, staring at him, their expressions transfixed. Suddenly, a seventh year Ravenclaw stood up slowly and began to clap. There was a few seconds of silence, and then the whole school stood up and joined in. Harry felt a dull blush creep over his face, and stared fixedly at the floor. The clapping was not fading away; on the contrary, it seemed to be getting louder and louder. Harry turned his eyes to the teacher’s table in order to avoid his fellow students’ gazes. All the teachers were beaming at him proudly, with the exception of one. Snape was shaking his head slightly and looking at the ceiling, an expression of utter exasperation etched on his face.  


 

“Come on,” Ron said, tugging Harry’s arm. “Let’s get a seat…they’ll all shut up in a minute.”  


 

* * *  


 

“You coming up to bed, Harry?” Ron asked sleepily, later that evening. Harry glanced up from his chair, his face blank.  


 

“What?”  


 

“To bed,” Ron repeated patiently. “Are you coming?”  


 

“Oh. Er…nah, I’ll come up in a bit. I’m not really tired just yet.” Ron nodded, although he didn’t look convinced. Hermione stood up too.  


 

“I’m going to head off as well,” she said, smiling at Harry. “Night, Harry.” She gave Ron a quick kiss and made her way up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.  


 

“Do you want me to stay for a bit?” Ginny asked quietly. Harry looked up at her.  


 

“No, it’s all right,” he said evenly. “I’ll be up in a bit.”  


 

Ginny looked at him, biting her lip. “Harry…”  


 

Harry stood up. “Ginny, I’m fine. Really.” He took one of her hands in his. “I know I’m a bit…well, I know I’m not a hundred percent okay, but it’s fine. I just need a bit of time, okay?”    


 

Ginny nodded. “Okay, Harry.” She leaned up and gave him a kiss. “I love you.”  


 

Harry smiled at her. “I love you too. Now go to bed.”  


 

When Ginny had left, he sat back down on his chair, staring vacantly into the fire. He sighed heavily as the dying embers darkened, shaking his head impatiently. _What was wrong with him_? He’d done it, he’d fulfilled the prophecy, he’d done what he had to do…so why wasn’t he ecstatic? Why did he feel that none of this was real, none of this mattered? He got to his feet heavily and climbed out of the portrait hole, not really sure where he was going. He walked through various corridors and down many flights of stairs, looking around at the place he loved the most, the place he called home. He had only one more year left at Hogwarts. What would he do after? Harry wondered vaguely what would happen if he simply refused to go…if he tied himself to his bedpost and refused point blank to leave the castle. He stopped at the end of a dark corridor, realising that he was outside his former Potions dungeon. The door was slightly ajar, and a flickering yellow light filtered through the gap. Harry walked slowly towards the room, pushing the door fully open and stepping inside. Snape was leaning over a cauldron, stirring a bubbling, golden potion. He turned around sharply as Harry came in, the familiar sneer spreading over his face.  


 

“Potter. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”  


 

Harry shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” Snape said nothing, and Harry frowned. “Why are you down here?”  


 

“I teach here, Potter,” Snape said smoothly. “Can you not remember?”  


 

Harry sighed wearily. “Yes, but you teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.” He took a step closer towards the cauldron and looked inside. “Why are you making a potion?”  


 

“Because I am the Potions professor, Potter.”  


 

“What?” Harry asked blankly. “But you wanted the Defence job. You’ve always wanted it, everyone knows. Why do you want to go back to Potions after only a year?”  


 

A small smile played at the corner’s of Snape’s mouth. “I’ve decided that I am more suited to the Potions position,” he said quietly. “Defence against the Dark Arts was not quite…my style.”   


 

“It IS cursed,” Harry mused.  


 

“What was that, Potter?”  


 

“The Defence position,” Harry explained. “No one lasts more than a year.”  


 

“Well, I’m sure that will change now,” Snape said loftily. “I had the pleasure of interviewing the possible candidates, and choosing the final one. I daresay Professor Tonks is intending to stay for more than a year.”  


 

“Tonks?” Harry said incredulously. “She’s going to be the new Defence teacher?” When Snape nodded, Harry smiled. “Cool.” There was a silence as Snape turned back to his cauldron. Harry leaned against one of the tables and watched him idly, not thinking of anything better he could be doing. They were both silent for a few minutes, and then Snape suddenly turned around.  


 

“What is bothering you, Potter?” he asked quietly.  


 

“What d’you mean?” Harry replied, looking up quickly.  


 

“Potter, I have spent much of the last month in your rather tedious company - I know when something is rattling around in that little brain of yours. You have always been a poor Occlumens…you could never conceal things from me.”  


 

“Yeah, well…sorry I’m not as practiced as you at hiding stuff,” Harry said heatedly.  


 

Snape gave a slight smile. “I would have thought this would be a very happy time for the legendary Harry Potter. After all, what with your very public triumph over the Dark Lord, I daresay you’ve never had so much press coverage. You are still all over the Prophet, although I’m sure you’re very aware of that. Are you cutting out the articles and sticking them in your scrapbook?”  


 

“I don’t have a scrapbook,” Harry growled, “and I don’t like the publicity, Snape. I never did.”  


 

“It’s _Professor_ Snape again, Potter. You’d do well to remember that,“ Snape said smoothly. “So the attraction of being the Chosen One has finally worn off?”  


 

“There never was an attraction!” Harry said angrily, feeling his face turning red.  


 

“Really?” Snape said, an eyebrow raised sardonically. “That was never the impression I got. In fact, I –”  


 

Harry cut him off. “ _Don’t_ ,” he said, very quietly. They stared at each other, an angry flush appearing on the top of Harry’s cheekbones.  


 

Snape paused. “So what exactly is the problem then, Potter?”  


 

Harry looked away. “I dunno. It’s just…I don’t know…I mean…” He sighed impatiently. “I just feel like there’s nothing left. Like I’m meaningless, like I’ve got no ambitions, no resolution…”  


 

“What do you mean?” Snape asked carefully.  


 

Harry sighed again. “I don’t really know. I think…Well, with the prophecy, as much as I hated it, as much as I resented the fact that it even existed, it gave me something to do. It gave me a purpose, a drive. A reason for carrying on. And now…now there’s nothing.” He fingered his scar unconsciously.  


 

“What do you mean, ‘a reason to carry on’, Potter?”  


 

“Just…you know…sometimes things would get really hard, and I felt like I just wanted to run off, escape it all…just leave. But I felt I had to serve my purpose, I had to kill him because if I didn’t, I knew it would be even worse. I had to make up for what I’d done.” He swallowed. “It was like I had to fulfill the prophecy, I had to fulfill my destiny. And now I have, it’s like…it’s like I have no purpose in life anymore. There‘s nothing out there for me.”  


 

Snape was quiet for a while, his dark eyes flickering over Harry’s face. “There will always be Dark Wizards, Potter,” he said finally, his eyes boring intently into Harry’s. “And there will always be the need for someone to stop them. It may not be your destiny to do that, and there may not be a prophecy, but it seems that a lot of people think that you are the person best suited for the job.”  


 

“But I’m not,” Harry said blankly.  


 

Snape sighed. “It matters not. They think you are. The world will always need a saviour, Potter, and it seems that for the moment they have chosen you,” he said, with a slight curl of his lip. “Incidentally, you are not completely ill-equipped for the job. I would have thought that you have just proved that. I understand you used to want to be an Auror?”  


 

“I did,” Harry said slowly. “But I think it’s too…high-profile. Aurors are in the news a lot and if I’m one…I don’t want all that.”  


 

“Potter, your life will always be high profile, whether you like it or not. You are the Boy Who Lived. You are the Chosen One. You are the defeater of the darkest wizard the world has ever know. This will not fade, this will never die down. You may as well accept it. The world will always need someone to save them. Doesn’t that give you a purpose, a reason to carry on? ”  


 

“I s’pose,” Harry said listlessly.  


 

“Do you have no other reasons to carry on, Potter?” Snape continued. “Do you have no friends, no people you care about?”  


 

“Of course I do,” Harry said irritably. “But it’s different with friends. It’s not as if I have…” He stopped, his mind irresistibly drawn to an image of a brown eyed, red haired girl. Ginny. His Ginny. It was over, all over. He had done what he had set out to do. He did not have to protect her anymore, he did not have to push her away. “I…she…yeah,” he said quietly.  


 

Snape sniffed haughtily. “Perhaps your lot in life is not so bad after all, Potter.” Harry nodded, feeling oddly light-headed. Snape’s eyes rested on Harry’s scar. “She would be proud,” he said, very quietly.  


 

Harry looked up in astonishment. “What did you just say?”  


 

“Nothing,” Snape said swiftly, turning away and beginning to tidy away the cauldron.  


 

“You said she would be proud? My mum, do you mean?”  


 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter,” Snape said snappily, not meeting his eyes.  


 

“You just said it!”  


 

“I said nothing, Potter. Perhaps your ego is so overblown with all the publicity that you are hearing things.”  


 

Harry smiled. “Okay, Professor.” He turned and began to walk swiftly from the room. When he reached the door, however, he paused and turned back around. “Er…sir?”  


 

“Yes?” Snape said coolly.  


 

“Er…well…I just wanted to say thanks. For helping me, I mean. It was…you …well…thanks.”  


 

“It was nothing, Potter. I am getting rather used to saving your neck. Do let me know when you’re off on your next little adventure,” Snape said wryly.  


 

Harry grinned. “Don’t worry, sir. I will.”  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Aw, Snape…don’t you just love him?! I really hope you liked this chap. For all you people that were worried about Harry, there was no need…I could never kill him off! I’m praying J.K feels the same and lets him live…but if she doesn’t I’m just going to bury my head in the sand and pretend he’s okay…Harry can't die! Anyway, STILL not the end, so keep checking! Please REVIEW!  



	44. The Boy Who Lived

Sorry for the delayed update...I've been really busy with all sorts...not least seeing the new HP film! If you havent seen it yet - GO! It's really good...adn Daniel Radcliffe is a bit of a fox! Haha.  
Hope you enjoy this chap...the last one!!

**44**

 

 

**The Boy Who Lived**

 

 

 

The sun was high in the sky, the strong rays of light making the bright June day hotter than usual. Rows of chairs were lined up on the Hogwarts grounds, facing towards the lake which glimmered in the sunlight. Students, teachers and many other witches and wizards were filing out of the school, and taking their seats. The front row was occupied by members of the press, and flashbulbs were already beginning to pop. Harry sat down in one of the middle rows, and Hermione, Ron and Ginny settled down next to them. They sat in a comfortable silence as the seats filled up. When everyone was settled, a bald, portly wizard stood up in the front row and raised his hands. The audience was immediately hushed.

 

 

“Will you all please stand for the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.”

 

 

The crowd got the their feet unanimously. Rufus Scrimgeour strode towards the stage, his dark red dress robes billowing behind him in the light summer breeze. He walked up to the makeshift stage, acknowledging the applause with a slow nod. He waved his wand and held it to his throat, magnifying his voice.

 

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly when the applause haddied down. “I have been Minister of Magic for less than a year, but what a year it has been. For most of it, I confess, I have been close to resigning, close to giving up. It has been the hardest year of my life, and I do not think it would be an assumption to say that no doubt it has been yours too. The Second War has been more devastating and overwhelming than the First War and those we have buried these last few days are testament to this.” He paused, looking around the audience. “But we have succeeded. In out time of peril we found strength in each other, we found strength in our hearts we did not know existed. The Dark Lord has been defeated, and this time he will not rise again. It is time for us to honour those who gave their lives, but first…” he paused significantly, “it is time to honour the person who has given us this second chance…the person who has ended this nightmare.” Heads began to turn towards Harry immediately, and he looked at his friends in alarm.

 

 

“Were you told you were going to have to go up, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry shook his head in horror.

 

 

“I’m sure you all know to whom I am referring,” Scrimgeour continued. “It is, of course, Harry Potter.” Harry tried to sink into his seat. “Many of you were present when Mr Potter defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. I myself was not, but I have heard many accounts of what happened, and of course, I have seen the iconic picture, taken by the student Colin Creevey.” 

 

 

“Bloody Colin,” Ron muttered, and Harry nodded.

 

 

Scrimgeour held up a copy of the Daily Prophet. It was the one that had come out the day after Voldemort had been killed, and the front cover showed a black and white picture of both Harry and Voldemort, seconds before Harry uttered the successful killing curse. Harry hadn’t read the article about him. The only thing he’d read was a statement from the Ministry affirming that ten Death Eaters - including Peter Pettigrew - had been rounded up and taken to Azkaban, where they would await the Dementor’s kiss. Harry had read it with a grim satisfaction. Wormtail deserved all he got.  

 

 

  “Such strength should be congratulated,” Scrimgeour continued, “and such bravery should be rewarded. It is with immense pleasure, therefore, that I award Harry Potter a First Class Order of Merlin honour. Could you please come up, Mr Potter?” Riotous applause broke out, and Harry wished he could sink straight through his chair and beneath the ground. Ron yanked his arm and tried to pull him.

 

 

“Come on, Harry! You have to go up! He’s waiting for you! Go!”

 

 

Harry stumbled to his feet, his face burning. He walked quickly through the aisle, looking at the grass in order to avoid everyone’s eyes. When he reached the stage Scrimgeour gave him a hearty handshake.

 

 

“Congratulations, Mr Potter,” he said calmly, hanging the medal around Harry’s neck. 

 

 

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly. Scrimgeour again turned to his audience.

 

 

“Mr Potter has shown courage and strength beyond his years, and for that we will always be thankful. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Potter.” Applause and cheering broke out again, and Scrimgeour looked at Harry expectantly. Harry blinked.

 

 

“Er…can I go now?” he asked hopefully.

 

 

“Your speech, Mr Potter,” Scrimgeour said coolly.

 

 

“Speech?” Harry repeated, his insides plummeting.

 

 

“It is customary to make a speech when one receives an Order of Merlin, particularly if it’s a First Class honour.” Harry stared at him in horror.

 

 

“Speech! Speech!” Members of the audience began to urge him to speak, and Scrimgeour firmly led Harry to the front of the stage. He handed him his wand.

 

 

“Make sure you hold it nice and close to your throat so we can all hear you,” he said pointedly, and stepped away. Harry stared at the crowd in front of him, his heart pounding. Hundreds of faces stared up at him, and silence fell as they waited for him to speak. What was he supposed to say? He’d never been good at public speaking…Harry felt his stomach writhe. He glanced along the rows near the front, hoping to see a familiar face that would reassure him. Instead he was met with Professor McGonagall’s encouraging nod, that only served to make his mouth drier. He moved his eyes one place to the left and was met by Snape’s rather amused sneer. He was watching with his arms folded, his eyes looking directly and intently into Harry’s. And, as Harry knew it would, his voice suddenly echoed inside his head.

_“Don’t just stand there like an imbecile, Potter. We haven’t got all day. Do get a move on.”_

 

 

Harry’s lips twitched, and he raised the wand a little higher. He took a deep breath, trying to focus his vision on someone he didn’t know.

 

 

“Well…thanks,” he said, in a voice that shook slightly. Snape rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually know this was going to be happening today, so I didn’t prepare a speech or anything…but now I’m here there are a few things I would like to say.” He took another deep breath, and when he spoke again it was in a much stronger voice. “When you read all the stuff in the Prophet about what happened and what I’ve done, when you see all the pictures and listen to what everyone’s saying…then yeah, it sounds great. But it wasn’t as if I did it all alone. Even though there were some things I knew I had to do alone, there was never any point where I was truly on my own, however much I might have thought it at the time. Certain people have always been there for me, always helped me, always supported me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them, and we all wouldn’t be sitting out here celebrating.” He paused and swallowed. “A lot of people have given their lives for me…for us…so we can be where we are today. A lot of people have made this possible, and it is them we should all be thanking, it is them we should all remember. Sirius Black. Percy Weasley. Albus Dumbledore. Remus Lupin. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Neville Longbottom. These are the real heroes of this war, they are the ones we should be remembering. Please don’t forget them, or what they did for us.”

 

 

“Here here!” cried a voice from the crowd, and Harry glanced over to see Fred Weasley nodding vehemently, a big grin on his face that mirrored his twin’s. Harry smiled too.

 

 

“Thanks Fred. I also just want to say thank you to all those who have supported me and helped me these last few years. I want to thank the Weasleys - all of them - for taking me in and treating me like family. I can never tell you how grateful I am for that.” Harry saw Mrs Weasley burst into noisy tears and bury her face in her hands. Mr Weasley caught Harry’s eye and gave him an amused look. “Also Hermione, for always knowing best…about everything,“ he added significantly, and Hermione smiled, knowing Harry was referring to Ginny. “I want to thank all the teachers at Hogwarts, especially Professor McGonagall.“ He paused. “And Professor Snape,” he added, somewhat grudgingly. Many of the Hogwarts students laughed, aware of Harry and Snape’s tumultuous relationship. “And finally I want to thank the members of the D.A who came with me that night. I really couldn’t have done it with out you lot.” He stepped back, unsure how to finish. There were a few moments of silence, and then the applause broke out; riotous, euphoric applause. Harry felt his face begin to turn red again, and he shuffled back.

 

 

“Thank you, Mr Potter,” Scrimgeour said to him as the crowd continued to cheer. “I wonder if I might have a word with you after the ceremony?”

 

 

“Er…well, I’ve got to be at the Hogshead later this afternoon,” Harry said uneasily. It was the reading of Dumbledore’s will.

 

 

“It won’t take long,” Scrimgeour said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Harry shrugged.

 

 

“Okay.” The service finished in half an hour, and Scrimgeour immediately began to march towards Harry. He gestured for Harry to follow him, and they began to walk slowly towards the lake. Harry noticed that Scrimgeour kept darting him little glances from the corner of his eyes. He stopped suddenly and turned to face Harry, his eyes flickering over his face and scar. 

 

 

“You are a very interesting young man. I have wanted to meet you for a long time, but Dumbledore…ah…didn’t think it was the best time.” He took a step closer to Harry. “I’ve heard from reliable sources that you want to pursue a career as an Auror?”

 

 

Harry looked up. “Maybe,” he said cautiously.

 

 

“We are not in the habit of making offers like this, Mr Potter, you should be aware of this.” When Harry frowned in confusion Scrimgeour took another step forward so they were only inches apart. Harry shifted uncomfortably. “It is clear that you have the ability and instincts of a fine Auror, Harry. We are of course aware that you are not of age yet, but we would be prepared to offer you a job working with the Ministry from August - when you are seventeen.”

 

 

Harry stared at him. “But I’ve still got another year of school to go.”   

 

 

“It matters not,” Scrimgeour said loftily. “We are aware of your abilities. You would be doing the country - the world - a great service.”

 

 

“That’s very kind of you, Minister,” Harry said slowly. “But I don’t think now is the best time for me.”

 

 

“Really?” Scrimgeour said smoothly, his eyebrows raising absurdly. “And why would that be.”

 

 

 “Well,” Harry began patiently, as though he were talking to a little child. “I’ve haven’t exactly had an easy time of it as of late. I think I just need to do normal things for a while…go to school, see my friends…just be normal.”

 

 

Scrimgeour smiled again, but there was no warmth in it. “But you are not normal, Mr Potter. You know that.”

 

 

Harry swallowed, keeping his anger in check. “I deserve a break,” he said, very quietly.

 

 

“So does the world, Mr Potter.”

 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry said coldly.

 

 

“He Who Must Not Be Named has been defeated, yes. But do not make the mistake of thinking your task is over.”

 

 

“ _My task_?” Harry said incredulously. 

 

 

“You are the Chosen One,” Scrimgeour said simply.

 

 

“But that referred to Voldemort!” Harry said angrily. “It didn’t mean that I have to abandon my life, my education, my friends in order to hunt down every bad person! If I decide to become an Auror it will be because I want to. I‘m not going to be bullied or guilt-tripped into it.”

 

 

Scrimgeour exhaled loudly, as if he was trying to keep calm. He smiled again. “I understand you have suffered, Harry. But this _is_ a once in a lifetime opportunity. The offer still stands, but it won’t forever.” He paused, his face suddenly grave again. “So, what do you say?”

 

 

Harry looked at the Minister, his eyes hard. “No,” he said simply. “I say no.” And with that, he turned sharply away and began to walk towards the castle, where his friends were waiting. 

 

 

* * *

Harry sat down rather uncomfortably in a large room in the Hogshead. Aberforth had closed the bar for the afternoon, and had led everyone to a room opposite it. It was light and airy, and the seats were arranged in a circle. There were not as many people as Harry had anticipated. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick were there, as were Hagrid and several other teachers. A few Ministry officials also took seats, although Harry was not sure if they were there to monitor the reading or because they expected to be left something. Ron, Hermione and Ginny hovered uncertainly in the doorway, uncertain if they should go in.

 

 

“Come in, come in!” Aberforth said with a smile. “Albus wouldn’t have minded; he never had much regard for privacy. Take a seat.” The three smiled gratefully and sat down next to Harry. One of the Ministry officials - a small, rotund man with a large white moustache - stood up importantly and began to read off a bit of parchment.

 

 

“We are here today to hear and acknowledge the last will and testament of Albus Dumbledore. Among the seated should be Aberforth Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Rubeus Hagrid, Severus Snape, Harry Potter -” Here his eyes left the sheet and flicked over Harry quickly, before returning to the parchment and hurriedly reading off the rest of the names. “All listed being present, the reading will commence,” he said pompously. Harry saw Aberforth raise his eyebrows slightly, and grinned. The man brought out a large, black pensieve, and placed it in the centre of the room. He took out his wand and waved it over, muttering quietly. For a few seconds nothing happened, and then a pearly white mist began to rise. Harry squinted. Slowly but surely a face was appearing in the mist; Dumbledore’s face. Harry heard Hermione gasp next to him; Ginny and Ron seemed unperturbed, and Harry realised they must be have been expecting it. Dumbledore’s face materialised fully, and he smiled, although he did not look at anyone directly - he looked past them, as if he was mesmerised by the walls of the room. He began to speak, his eyes twinkling familiarly behind their glasses.

_“I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, being of sound mind and disposing memory,_ _do hereby make, publish and declare this instrument to be my last will and_ _Testament._

_To Aberforth Dumbledore, my younger and more sprightly brother, I leave my house and the sum of five thousand galleons. Alas, it is probably not as much as you hoped, Aberforth, but you know my penchant for patterned socks - some of them are very expensive.  I hope you will attempt to use it for something constructive - I daresay the goat has not quite recovered yet. You have been a faithful friend as well as a brother, and for that I thank you.”_

 

Aberforth smiled and nodded, although Harry noticed that his eyes had gone rather misty. 

_To Minerva McGonagall, my loyal friend and colleague, I leave my pensive that you have always admired. Being Headmaster meant that my mind was often very full, and I have found that the pensive comes in very handy. I am sure you will too. Thank you for your continued support over the years. I will always appreciate your loyalty and friendship.”_

Professor McGonagall blew her nose loudly, and Professor Flitwick patted her on the arm consolingly.

_“To Severus Snape, my confidante and associate, I leave all the possessions in my office which you were so interested in, including my personal library. Your thirst for knowledge has always astounded me, and I daresay you find some articles of great fascination. Your unwavering support and loyalty will always be remembered.”_

 

Snape betrayed no sign of emotion, just merely bowed his head slightly. His eyes met Harry’s and for a few seconds they merely looked at each other, no animosity or resentment on either of their faces. Harry gave him a small nod, which Snape returned. He knew that he and Snape would never get on, that Snape would never favour him in his lessons and that they would never strike up a friendship.However, he also knew that things would not go back to how they were; Snape would not go out of his way to humiliate and patronise Harry, and nor would Harry steadfastly believe that Snape was evil, and go out of his way to pick fights with him. Harry knew that without Snape his task would have been impossible; without Snape he would have failed without a doubt. And that, if anything, had given them both a mutual respect and acceptation of another - something that Harry had never believed was possible. He was jolted out of his reverie when he heard his own name.    

_“To Harry James Potter, I leave my most treasured possession - Fawkes. As well as being a loyal and loving creature, he does also come in handy, as you no doubt saw at the Ministry last year, when he swallowed a killing curse meant for me. You seem to have a rather interesting habit of getting into trouble, so I am sure you will appreciate this. I also bequeath you my sock collection, although I would suggest you give it to Miss Granger - I am sure she will find many House Elves to free. I am more proud of you than I can say, Harry; remember that.”_

 

Harry looked at his knees as Ginny squeezed his hand and Hermione beamed at him, looking very excited at the thought of freeing more elves. Ron rolled his eyes. When the will had been completely read and the image of Dumbledore dissolved back into the penseive, people began to stand up and walk out of the room. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.

 

 

“I thought he’d leave you his phoenix,” Aberforth said with a smile. “He would have never have trusted me with him, although I don’t know why.” His eyes - so like his brother’s - were full of amusement. Harry could still barely believe that this was the grumpy Hogshead barman, the man who had looked petulant and irritable every time Harry had seen him previously. “A phoenix is a great companion to have, Harry.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. He saved my life in the second year. Dunno if my owl will be too pleased though. She gets a bit jealous.”

 

 

Aberforth chuckled. “It shouldn’t be a problem, lad. Fawkes has the uncanny knack of making friends with just about any creature. I’m sure they’ll get on like a house on fire.” He paused for a moment. “You come and see me next year. Probably best if you come after hours, otherwise I won’t really be able to talk. Got to keep up appearances, you understand.”

 

 

“Are you still going to be a spy?” Harry asked in surprise. “Even though Voldemort’s gone?” 

 

Aberforth’s eyes lost some of their twinkle. “There will always be Dark Wizards, Harry.”

 

 

Harry thought of Snape’s words and nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said wearily.

 

 

Aberforth gave his shoulder a pat. “You should go out and enjoy the sunshine now, Harry. Your friends are waiting.” He gestured towards the door way where the three were standing, patiently waiting for him as they always had.

 

 

“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile. “Yeah, they are.” 

 

 

The four walked slowly out of the pub and though Hogsmeade, until they reached the school grounds again. They walked leisurely towards the lake in a comfortable silence, and sat down on the grass under a tree. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and the air was warm and  summery. Harry leant his back against the trunk of the tree and looked out at the lake, his mind buzzing restlessly.  “So. What now?” he asked quietly.

 

 

“Now we’ll have - for the very first time - a worry free year at Hogwarts,” Hermione said with a smile.

 

 

“Probably,” Ron said, taking Hermione’s hand in his.

 

 

“Probably,” Hermione conceded. “We’re going to be seventh years - I can’t believe it. Harry, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve made you some notes of the key things you need to learn, so I suggest you do some extra work over summer.  I can help you if you like,” she added hopefully.

 

 

“Thanks, Hermione,” said Harry with a smile, avoiding Ron’s eyes. “That means a lot to me.”

 

 

“Yes, well. It’s all very well what you’ve just done, but for now I think you should concentrate on getting your N.E.W.Ts. If you want to be an Auror you’ll need good grades,” she said warningly.

 

 

“Hermione,” Ron said in disbelief, “Harry doesn’t need to pass a single exam to be an Auror - the Ministry would give anything to have him! Harry told you what Scrimgeour said! He could probably be Minister of Magic if he wanted to!”

 

 

“That’s not the right attitude to take, Ron” she scolded. Harry smiled to himself. “What do you want to do after school, Harry?” she continued. “Do you still want to be an Auror?”

 

 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to keep playing Quidditch though.” He paused and looked at Ron. “I got an offer, you know. The other day. To play Quidditch professionally.”

 

 

Ron’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” he yelled incredulously. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me until now! Are you going to accept? When do you start?”

 

 

“I’m not accepting. Not now, at least,” he added, seeing Ron’s astounded expression. “I want to finish school, get my N.E.W.Ts. After that we’ll see.” Hermione gave him an approving smile.

 

 

“Which team was it?” Ron asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.

 

 

Harry hesitated. “The Tornadoes,” he said reluctantly.

 

 

Ron’s expression was comical. “Harry,” he said weakly, “if you go and play for the Tornadoes, our friendship will be damaged beyond repair. If you’re going to play, play for the Chudley Canons! With you as our seeker, we’ll be unstoppable! If you start next year, provided we don’t come bottom this year, we’ll have a great chance of winning. If we can beat the Tornadoes, and then they lose to…” He carried on talking about the Chudley Canon’s chances of winning, and Harry felt his attention begin to wander. Ron’s words buzzed around incessantly, until Hermione finally shushed him. Harry felt a wave of love and gratitude for his friends sweep over him, and he blinked quickly as his eyes suddenly began to sting slightly.  

 

 

Ginny was sitting next to Harry, her hand loosely in his. She was silent, and Harry was glad. Sometimes there were no words for what you wanted to say, no expressions for what you felt. Words could only go so far. He drew her against him and she rested her head on his shoulder, their fingers entwined. He raised his free hand and gently rubbed his scar; he had never gotten out of that habit, and he realised he probably never would. He knew now that his scar would never fade; his face would always be marked with the lightning bolt, but Harry found that this did not bother him anymore. His scar represented his struggle - it was a constant reminder of everything he had lost, and everything he had gained. 

 

 

He knew the pain he felt would also never go, although perhaps it might lessen over time. As Dumbledore had once said, some wounds go too deep; some hurts can never heal. Harry’s pain was constant, ceaseless; it was a dull ache somewhere in his heart. It was the child inside him crying out for those he had lost, for those who had died, for those who had left him and could never return. His mother. His father. Sirius. Dumbledore. Remus. And now Neville and Kingsley. He had been through too much, too young. He would never truly be fine, he would never truly get over it. Harry knew that. But as he tightened his grasp on the small hand within his, he realised that he would not have to. 

 

 

He was not alone. He still had people who cared for him and loved him, and who he loved back. He had a reason, he had a future. Nothing could take this away from him. He kissed Ginny’s forehead lightly, breathing in her familiar flowery scent. He had Ginny now. Whatever lay ahead - whatever path he would take, whatever life he would lead - Harry would make it. He always had.

 

 

 

 

**THE END**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So there you have it! The End! I was quite unsure what kind of ending I should finish with, because I don’t think in the real book 7 (assuming Harry survives) it will be all light and happy, but then again I don’t think it will be all doom and gloom either; I think it will be kind of hopeful, with Harry coming to terms with everything that has happened and feeling that he has a future. So I kind of wanted to recreate that. I really hope I’m not wrong and that the book doesn’t end with everyone crying at Harry’s funeral! 

I had such fun writing this…some parts were really hard to get out, and other parts came so easily it was like someone was telling me what to write. I really hope all you guys enjoyed it too. Thanks so much to all those who have reviewed - your comments have meant so much to me! And to all those of you have never reviewed…I think now is the time to finally do it, don’t you?!! I hope this has made the wait for the final book easier, and I hope to goodness that we all enjoy it!!

I would love to write another story, so maybe after I’ve read Deathly Hallows I’ll do an alternate book 7, as this one is an alternate book 6. What do you think? I’d love to know if you guys would be interested in that. I know some people wanted me to have Harry propose to Ginny, but I just couldn’t do it…no matter how much he may love her, he’s still only sixteen! I don’t think he’s quite ready for marriage just yet…

It may be something I write about in the future though!

 

Until next time…‘Mischief Managed’!

Selene x

 


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